Last Year was Complicated
by MaverickLover2
Summary: What more can he do? Bart Maverick feels like he needs to take a break from the mess that his life has become. That may include going where no one wants him to go, especially his brother.
1. Curiosity

Last Year Was Complicated

Part I – Trinity River

Chapter 1 – Curiosity

I'd only been in the cabin for two weeks when she first appeared at my door. A pitiful little thing, just a baby really, and she was definitely looking for a mommy. Which I was never gonna be.

She, of course, was a kitten, maybe three or four months old, and how she'd survived that long out here by herself I wasn't certain. I had some fish I'd caught that morning and had just finished cooking, and I was more than happy to share it with her. She ate it daintily and with great style, like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted. Maybe it was.

I wasn't in the habit of catching my own supper; I was much better at ordering than I was at cooking. But I'd come out here, to this spot on the Trinity River, to get away from everybody and everything for a while. The river was about fifty miles southeast of my uncle's house in Little Bend, Texas, where the majority of my relatives lived. That word, majority, encompassed both my Pappy and his brother Ben, my uncle, sometimes his son and my cousin Beau, and my older brother Bret and me when we were in Texas. Where I'd been for a while now.

My name's Bart. Bart Maverick. Yes, we're distantly related to Samuel Maverick, a signer of the Texas Declaration of Independence. Second cousin twice removed or something like that. Sam Augustus gave some land to Micah, another of my uncle's, and he shared it with Beauregard (Pappy) and Uncle Bentley, his two brothers. That's why Bret and I were born in Little Bend.

Life the last year or so has been one gunshot wound after another, and frankly my head has had more than its share of ups and downs, too. Somewhere along the way a break from everything sounded like a good idea, and that's how I ended up here. Pappy has a good friend in Houston who owns this cabin and had no need of it for several months, so she suggested I take it for as long as I wanted it.

The whole family plays poker for a living, me included, and I just wanted to sit still and do nothing for a while. My shoulder's still healing from the last fight it had with a bullet, and something happened during the time I was battling the subsequent infection that I still can't quite pin down. I wanted to be alone for a bit, just to be lazy and reflect, but Brother Bret is supposed to join me here next week. I believe it'll do him some good to get away for a while, too.

Back to the kitten. We'd had dogs growing up, and we'd always had barn cats, but I'd never had a cat inside the house. And make no mistake, inside the house was exactly where she intended to stay. "Well," I finally told her, "I suppose if you're gonna live here with me you need a name. How about Miss Kitty?"

She looked at me like I required a new brain for the old head, because the one that was in there definitely wasn't working. "Puss?" I suggested next, but it was quickly obvious that wasn't acceptable either. "Fluff? Baby? Cat? Any suggestions?" She rubbed up against my arm and issued a soft and melodious 'Brrrrrrruuuppp' and I took the hint. "Melody?" She nodded her head and 'Brrrrrrruuuppped' me again. Glad that was settled. "Alright, Miss Melody, how about some water? Then you can come out on the porch with me while I smoke a cigar. And when we get bored with that there's always bed." I put some water in a saucer and set it on the floor next to the cabinet where all the necessities were kept. She followed me out onto the 'porch,' actually a small deck right on the water, and waited until I'd sat down in the rocker before jumping up in my lap. She curled up and purred herself to sleep. Obviously I was wrong. As a mommy, I'd do just fine.

She was still in the cabin the next morning, snuggled with her head up against my back in the bed. As soon as I moved around she got up and made her way to lay in front of me, more than happy to cuddle right up and go back to sleep. "Ladies are not supposed to sleep with gentlemen, you know," I informed her as I scratched her ears and listened to her purr. "Oh, I see," I told her. "Well, I'm no gentleman, either." Great, the week before Bret got here I was talking to a cat. How's that for crazy? Melody didn't seem to object, and we both drifted back off for a few more minutes.

The next time I opened my eyes she was sitting on the floor, staring at me like I'd done something wrong. I had, in a way. I'd gone back to sleep without taking care of her breakfast. I tried to chase her away with my hand, while I told her, "Shoo. Go find your own breakfast. Catch a mouse or something." She didn't move or complain, just sat and stared until finally I groaned and swung my legs around on the floor. I had some leftover salted bacon from yesterday morning, and I gave her two pieces of that, broken up into bits, and got dressed while she ate. When finished she did the same thing I'd done, groomed herself until she looked most presentable, and waited to see what my next move was.

"Sorry, Melody, nothing on the agenda more exciting than doing some reading. You'll have to amuse yourself for a while." I poured a cup of the coffee I'd made while she bathed and settled down in the rocker outside on the 'porch.' I was working on Jules Verne's latest book, _'From the Earth to the Moon,'_ and was fascinated by the possibilities. Melody lay down next to me, well out of the way of the rocker, and watched the sunfish jump in the river. When she got bored with that she took an early morning nap. As far as she was concerned, all was well and peaceful in this new world she'd found.

I had no objections. As a matter of fact, after being visited by nothing more than a stray cow on the far side of the river in the past two weeks, I was ready for some company, even if it was of the non-human variety. Maybe it would give me something to think about besides the empty space that existed between the time I'd slid off my horse in Little Bend and the time that I'd woken up in Uncle Ben's house, some eight days later. Bret insisted he couldn't tell me anything about that time, and everyone in the house agreed with him. Except Lily Mae, who'd inadvertently let something slip that had me curious.

On the second day after I woke up, she'd brought me some soup and some coffee and sat with me while I ate. I wasn't paying any attention to whatever she was talking about until I heard her mention 'Valpariso Road.' "What was that, Lily?" I asked as I put my spoon down.

"What?" she asked. "Valpariso Road? Ain't that the place where your head was parked while you wasn't with us?"

"I don't know. Did you hear me talk about it?"

"Well, sure, Mr. B. Far as I can recall, it was in Las Cruces. That's where you was. Least that's what you kept babblin' about."

"I did?"

"Yeah, don't you remember? You were playin' poker an everything."

"What else, Lily Mae?" She had my full and complete attention now.

"Well, there was this girl – name of Eve or Evie or somethin' like that, and her pa."

"Evy, maybe?" I prompted her.

"Yeah, that's it. Evy. Her pa's named Aiden. No, wait, that's one a the other men. Her pa's Billy. You called him Wild Bill, for some reason. And you kept talkin' about Sugar, but I don't know if that was a person or a place."

"Maybe both," I murmured, more to myself than anything. "Go on, what else did I say?"

"Well, one day you were tellin' about meetin' everybody at church, and I thought that was mighty funny, comin' from you."

"I've gone to church before, Lily Mae. It's not a foreign concept to me."

"No, it's just, well – you know what I mean. You seem to be a whole lot more God fearin' than the rest of 'em."

"I think you hit on the right words, Lily Mae – God-Fearing."

"An you took a job – workin' for Billy, at his ranch." Lily Mae had a funny smirk on her face when she told me that one.

"Me? Workin'? Doin' what, did I say?"

"Not right then, but the next day or so. Sounded like 'partner.'"

That was the end of what I could get out of Lily Mae. The next time I saw her she insisted she didn't remember any more; she'd told me everything she'd heard. I suspected more than anything that she'd had a long talk with Brother Bret.

Now, don't get the wrong idea. I didn't think Bret had done anything that wasn't in my best interest. It was just that, well, something happened during that time I fought for my life that he thought I was better off not knowing about. Or so I suspected. I could be wrong; all you had to do was tell me I didn't need to know somethin' and I immediately wanted to know. Maybe I should have named the cat Curiosity, it might have been a better moniker.


	2. Cornbread and Cicadas

Chapter 2 – Cornbread and Cicadas

We fell into a routine quickly, my newest love and I, and it was a pleasant if subdued one. I'd get up and make breakfast, mostly bacon, biscuits, and coffee, and Melody would sit patiently while I cooked her some of the bacon and let it cool. Then we both ate, and I cleaned up the dishes while she cleaned up her fur. I'd spend some time reading out on the deck and she would lie in the sun and nap. If I decided to take one of those she joined me in bed, extending her 'outdoor' nap into an 'indoor' one. On occasion, she'd wander off for a bit of time, not long, and come back with a pleased expression on her face.

Then in the afternoon I'd settle down to fish, and she took great joy in watching and, sometimes, trying to help me. If the fish was still flopping around on deck once I'd hauled it out of the water, she'd run over and put her paw on it until it stopped. Otherwise, she watched placidly until I knew we had enough, and was content to wait for her supper until I'd cooked mine. After dark I played a lot of Maverick Solitaire and she lay in my lap and purred. It felt like we'd been doing this a long, long time.

There was a second bed in the cabin, and she watched in fascination the morning I finally put sheets and a blanket on it. Bret should be here sometime tonight or tomorrow morning, and I wanted things to be ready in case he got in late. Noble would probably be happy when my brother and his stallion, Blackthorn, got here; it meant more exercise for my buckskin gelding. I'd only been out riding once by myself since I arrived. I wasn't sure how Melody would take it the first time I left without her, but I had to trust that she'd wait for me to return.

Not long after supper that night I heard a familiar voice calling, "Brother Bart! Where are you?"

I stuck my head out the cabin door and yelled back, "I'm in the middle of the river. How's your swimmin' tonight?"

I got a big laugh for that one and only a few minutes passed while Bret unsaddled and tethered his horse. Then he was in the front door and had me in another of those famous Maverick bear hugs, while Melody sat patiently on my bed and waited like a proper lady for an introduction.

"Damn, you look good, son. Bein' lazy seems to agree with you."

He was right; I'd gained some weight and no longer felt like I was wasting away, and I'd picked up some good color by spending so much time in the sun. Bret looked like he'd lost a few pounds and was the way I always thought of him, lean and muscular.

"Looks like you've been hard at work," I replied, and he laughed that big, Maverick laugh that he shared with Pappy.

"Well, there was some fixin' that needed to be done around the ranch, and I could only sit and listen to Pappy and Ben argue about everything under the sun for so long before I had to find somethin' to do. Seemed the best way to get out of the house. How'd you do out here alone?"

"Been good. Peaceful. Quiet. Relaxing. Lots of time to think about things that didn't involve life or death. But I haven't been alone. I made the acquaintance of a lady friend I'd like to introduce you to."

"Bartley! I can't leave you alone for three weeks and you've already got a new lady friend?" He stood with his hands on his hips and gave me that 'big brother does not approve' face. I laughed and stepped away from the front of my bed to reveal the cat, still sitting at attention with her tail curled around her paws. She was a brown tabby with a white face, and her little gold eyes gleamed in the candlelight.

"Miss Melody, may I present my sometimes oafish brother Bret. Bret, this is Melody."

He looked at her and burst into gales of laughter. She didn't look any more impressed with him than he did with her, and she stood up on three paws and gave a somewhat disdainful 'Brrrrrrruuuppp', swished her tail and turned her back on him, choosing to rub up against my leg instead.

"I think I've finally found the girl to resist your dimples," I told him, and a jolt ran right through me. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I could remember hearing a female voice pronounce, "Dimples are overrated." I sucked in my breath and sat down abruptly on the bed; I felt like somebody'd knocked the wind out of me.

"Are you alright?" Bret asked, an oversized amount of concern in his voice.

"Yeah," I gulped, and reached over to scratch Melody's ears instinctively. She sat down next to me and glared at my brother. "But you've insulted my roommate."

"Seriously, where did that come from?"

"Melody is not a 'that.' She's a lady, and you should show a little respect. She came to visit one day and decided to stay. You know what effect I have on the females of the world."

Bret laughed and shook his head. "At least I don't have to worry about you marryin' that one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, rather petulantly.

"Nothin'. Absolutely nothin'. But she's yours, alright? I'm not babysittin' no cat."

"She doesn't require babysitting," I informed him. "Any more than those hounds of yours did. She's self-sufficient." The summer after Bret almost got married at fifteen he'd acquired two hounds from one of our neighbors, Blue and Homer. They went everywhere with him, and for a while I thought sure he'd replaced me with the dogs. Fortunately, neither hound was very good at playin' poker.

He came over to the bed and did his best to make peace with Melody, but it was evident he'd offended her. The kitten walked behind me and stayed there. "Got an attitude, I see. Fits in perfectly with the gelding."

"You hungry?" I asked, changing the subject. "I got some fish from supper."

"Sounds good. I brought some of Lily Mae's cornbread, said she had to send it for you since you like it so much."

"Dump your gear, sit down. Ain't nothin' out here to get excited about."

Bret pulled a wrapped package out of his bag while I put together a plate of fish. Melody was instantly alert, and I gave her a small piece to keep her busy while we ate. Lily Mae's cornbread was soon divided up, and I ate mine as desert while Bret consumed his with the leftover fish I'd fried earlier. The only sounds besides our chewing were the croaking of the frogs and toads and some cicada off in the woods.

After a few minutes Bret grinned. "No wonder you're talkin' to the cat. Bet the silence just about drove you crazy."

I let loose a little chuckle at that. Just the opposite, it was nice not to hear Pappy and Ben good-naturedly sniping at each other. "Pappy and Ben still arguin' about everything?"

"Just about. You know how they are. I keep waitin' for Pappy to decide he can't live there anymore and pack up his things."

"Naw, they been together too long now. Besides, Pappy'd try to take Lily Mae with him, and Uncle Ben'd never let her go. That would solve any dispute they might have," I reminded him.

"True. I don't know what either of 'em would ever do if Lily Mae left."

"Kill each other."

"Probably."

Bret must have been feeling guilty, because he broke off a small piece of fish and presented it to Melody. She looked at him for a minute, then at me, and I gave her a nod. Without any further ado she accepted the offering and munched happily on the additional snack, and her opinion of my brother seemed to have altered slightly.

"Whatta you been doin' for amusement?" Bret asked while he kept eating and watched the cat wash up after supper.

"Readin'. Playin' Maverick Solitaire. Sleepin'. Ain't much else to do out here."

"How about some poker?"

"Real poker or Maverick poker?" I asked him, curious as to which he had in mind. Maverick poker was what we usually played among ourselves, and it differed from the real thing. Whoever was dealing in Maverick poker cheated. Plain and simple, no ifs, ands or butts. That's just the way it was. I was surprised by the answer I got.

"Real poker, son. I haven't had a good game in a long time."

"You're on," I responded quickly, before he had a chance to change his mind. Playing against Bret was the next best thing to playing against myself. He was cunning and crafty, and we kept each other on our toes as we played. I hadn't had a good game in a long time, either, come to think of it. "Loser cooks breakfast in the morning."

"Sounds like my kind of poker game," he laughed, and I got out the deck.

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched," I told him, and pulled the table over so that it was midway between the two beds. Melody had no interest in the match and curled up next to me. As we got started I wondered who would emerge the winner.


	3. A Hunting We Will Go

Chapter 3 – A Hunting We Will Go

"Next time we play with my cards," Bret announced as he turned the bacon over in the pan.

"Don't burn the biscuits," I reminded him. "Did Lily Mae send any jam with you?"

"Yep," he answered as he pulled the last piece of bacon out and set it on a plate. "It's in my saddlebags."

"Wouldn't have made any difference," I told him. "You looked at the cards yourself. You know they were good. I beat you fair and square." I'd walked over to the pile of bacon and taken two pieces from the bottom, then broken them into bits and set them on a saucer for Melody. She ate them like she always did, with grace and daintiness, and then looked to see if there was anymore. I snuck another piece off my plate and broke it up for her. She 'Brrrrrrruuuppped' me and smiled. I think she smiled, and Bret watched to make sure I didn't take any of his.

"What's on the agenda for today?" my brother asked me while we ate the biscuits. Pretty good cooking for a tin horn.

"Same as every day. Clean up, read, nap. Fish, swim, ride maybe, fix supper, smoke a cigar, go to bed."

"Real exciting day."

"Never said it was gonna be," I told him. "I didn't come down here for excitement. I came down here to have some time, to figure things out."

"Figure what things out?"

I wasn't gonna bring this up right away, but Bret had opened the door and I wanted to see what I could learn. "The missing eight days."

He gave me a funny look, like he really didn't know what I was talking about. "Missing eight days?"

I nodded. "The eight days I tried to die on you."

"Not just me," he explained. "You tried to die on everybody. Even Simon was at his wits end."

I knew I was getting off track, but the tone of his voice had me a little worried. "You and Simon – how'd that work out?"

He broke his last piece of bacon in half, putting one-half in his mouth and offering the other half to Melody. She took it, cautiously, and dropped to the floor with it. I could hear her purring as she ate it. "It is what it is," Bret told me. "I swallowed my pride and in return got to keep my brother. Pretty fair exchange, I'd say." He sat and thought about it for a minute, and I could see the wheels in his head turning. Then he looked up at me and grinned. "Actually, I got to keep the better end of the deal. Pride never was worth much, anyway. Pappy thinks they've got a baby."

"That could be you, ya know. Regret anything?"

"With Althea? Yes and no. I was in love with her, Bart. I was thinkin' about marryin' her. Yeah, I know. I kept sayin' it didn't matter none, but it did. It mattered a lot. Woulda been a lot tougher if I hadn't had to chase after your hide, all the dang way to Sioux Falls. You made my life a whole lot easier by needin' my help."

"Were you really? Thinkin' about gettin' married, I mean? You never told me that." Not in those words, no, he hadn't, but at the time I could see the pain in his eyes and hear it in his voice. And the mess we stumbled into in Sioux Falls had pulled him out of the nightmare faster than anything else I could have thought of.

"Alright, since we seem to be on that track right now, answer me a question."

"What about?" I asked him as I watched Melody walk outside into the sun.

"Dominique Hawkins."

"Oh." That was the first time I'd heard her name in quite a while. A painfully tender part of my past, I'd fled Natchez with Bret in tow, not once looking back. I held my breath and waited for the inevitable question.

"Did you love her?"

I nodded my head, then realized Bret's attention was elsewhere and he couldn't see the nod, so I finally spoke. "Yes."

"Were you thinkin' about . . . "

"Marryin' her? Mmmmm, that's a hard one. Right then, in Natchez? Probably not. But I was gonna ask her to go to Laredo with me. Where it would have gone from there . . . but it didn't even go there. Then I got a little busy with the Radsons and tryin' to keep you alive, and it was a long time before I even thought about her again. Back to the original question. The missing eight days."

"Oh yeah. Was there a question there?"

Well, it was my own fault for wandering away from the subject. But I'd heard something in his voice when I asked about Simon, and I wanted an honest answer about that situation. I won't say that Brother Bret was all right with it; I think 'resigned to it' might be a better description of his true feelings. Now, before he could get away again . . . "What happened while I had the fever?"

He gave me one of his 'this is all you're gonna get outta me' looks and cleared his throat. "I spent a lotta hours with you. You didn't have much to say; mostly babblin' 'bout one thing or another. Didn't make too much sense most of the time."

"Most of the time? What about when I did make sense?" One thing that Bret excels at is answering your questions without actually giving you an answer. That's the road he was headed down right now. But I knew how to drag him back to the matter at hand.

"That wasn't very often."

"You can't keep dodgin' me, Bret. Just tell me what I wanna know and I'll leave you alone about it."

"Why do you have to know?"

"Why will you not tell me?"

He threw his hands up in the air and sighed, a sure sign that I'd finally worn him down. "Curiosity killed the cat . . . oops, no offense intended, Miss Melody."

There was a faint 'Brrrrrrruuuppp' from the deck. "Alright, you've had your fun. Talk."

"I need a cigar. And some more coffee. Let's go outside."

"Did I confess to murder or something?" I asked, just about at the end of my rope. This must be a real beauty, considering how far he'd gone to avoid answering my questions. I pointed to the rocker and Bret sat in it; I had socks on but no boots, and I sat cross-legged on the deck itself. Melody was immediately in my lap. She looked up at me, like she was inquiring about the change in seating arrangements, but never made a sound.

"No, nothin' like that," my brother finally answered me. "It's just . . . you kept talkin' about a girl and her pa, and all the people you knew, and everything that was goin' on there. It got real complicated."

"I kept talkin' about the same place? For eight days? Was it a real place?" I knew it was supposed to be Las Cruces, but I thought he might tell me more if he told me everything he remembered.

Bret nodded and lit a cigar. He offered me one, but I shook my head. "Las Cruces," he finally said as he blew out smoke. "Yeah, you seemed to stay in the same town the whole time. At some ranch on a place called Valpariso Road. You ever been there?"

He'd asked a good question. I hadn't been in Las Cruces . . . since the War. Not that I remembered, leastways. "Remember that time we got sent there when we were first in the army? Not since then."

"Hmmmm. You sure seemed to know a lot about the place. And the people." For the next hour we sat out in the sun, and he filled in as much as he was willing to about Evy, Billy, Aiden, Hamilton, Lee, Clint, and so many more whose names I can't recall. The poker games, breakfast at Sugar's – I was right, it was both a person and a place – and my move to the ranch. It was fascinating, the world I must have created, but it felt like there was something missing. Sometimes what he told me made sense and sometimes it didn't. I took a job with Billy, but there was no reason for it. Just like there was no reason for my move to the ranch. There seemed to be a part left out, and I didn't know why. Was Bret not telling me something, or did he really not know?

"So I just came back, huh? You sure you're not leavin' anything out?"

Bret chuckled a little and shook his head. "Nope, that's about all I remember," he finally remarked. "Does any of it sound familiar?"

I shrugged. "Maybe a little, but I'm not sure. There's somethin' . . . somethin' missin'. But I don't know what." I shifted positions and Melody got up and walked to the edge of the deck. A fish rippled the water, and it made me think about supper. "If you want fish tonight, we best get a move on."

"You been huntin' around here?" Bret asked.

"Nope. You thinkin' about rabbit?"

"Yeah. Let's go see what we can catch." Bret stood up from the rocker and stretched; rabbit stew sounded like a good idea.

"Alright. Gimme a minute," I told him as I wiggled my bootless toes. I stood up and started back inside the cabin; out of the corner of my eye I saw Melody jump up in the rocker that Bret had just vacated. She gave me a look like _'Who is this character?'_ before she lay back down.

A few minutes later we were ready to saddle the horses. This was the first time I was leaving since the kitten had shown up at the door, and I had no way to let her know I'd be back. I thought the odds of her still being there were better than the odds that Bret had told me the entire story about Las Cruces. All I could do was wait and see what happened. About either situation.


	4. Guardian Angel

Chapter 4 – Guardian Angel

It really was pretty countryside, down here on the banks of the Trinity River, as summer began to turn into fall. No wonder Mary Rose kept a 'getaway' cabin here, after the dirt and bustle of Houston. I know that Pappy had come down to stay with Mary several times over the years; whether it was platonic or romantic, I couldn't say for sure. Knowing Pappy as well as I do, and Mary Rose as little as I do, I'd still bet they were more than just friends. When there's a beautiful woman around, none of the Maverick men are inclined to be bashful. I'd met Mary Rose several times, and she certainly fell into the category of beautiful women.

If I'd known the countryside better I might have ridden Noble bareback, just because we both enjoy it, but I hadn't explored much of the surrounding area, and I didn't know what might be out there waiting for us. Besides, Noble tends to be a bit friskier when Blackthorn is around, and I didn't need a broken anything at this point in my life. I'd had enough, thank you.

Bret and I set off in an easterly direction and just rode for a while, wanting to put a little distance between the water and our rabbit hunt. I don't know what Bret was lookin' for, but I was after some black-tailed jackrabbits since they were so prolific in this area. Once we'd ridden for a time we dismounted and tied the horses to a tree, making the rest of our way on foot. It didn't take long to find what we were after, and we each had one within thirty minutes. I don't mind huntin' them, but I leave the stew making to my brother. He's more experienced at it, anyway. Like I said before, I'm better at ordering than cooking. But I do right well with fish.

On the way back to the cabin both the horses got a little spooked, and eventually we figured out why. Bret spotted what looked like a southern copperhead near a fallen tree, and we steered clear of the area. By the time we returned I was getting sleepy, and it dawned on me that I'd gotten used to taking a nap, and I'd missed mine today. Funny how quickly we fall into habits.

I took care of the horses and Bret skinned the rabbits, then got them started cooking. Melody was laying in the middle of my bed, fast asleep, but woke and greeted me with a _'Hey, buddy, where you been?'_ meow. "You'll have a treat tonight for dinner, little lady. And you didn't even have to catch it," I informed her, and scooted her over so I could lie down on the bed. She snuggled right up next to me and Bret just looked over and shook his head.

"What is it about you and women?" he asked.

"I don't hardly think Melody qualifies as a woman," I told him.

"Alright, what is it about you and females?" was his modified question.

"You're one to talk," I reminded him. "I didn't try to get married when I was fifteen."

"That was different, and you know it."

"How was that different, big brother?"

"It just was."

It was a long time after that summer before I could actually talk to Bret about everything that had happened. Especially in light of what took place the following summer. He might have been only fifteen, but I really do believe he loved Mary Alice. I'd had my first female encounter of any consequence that same summer, and I know how long it was before I was willing to get involved with another girl.

"And you've been such a pious soul when it comes to women ever since," I reminded him.

He sat down on his bed and grinned at me. "Let's face it," he offered as a defense. "Women just can't resist the Maverick charms." Right at that point Melody raised her head and meowed, and not the sweet little 'Brrrrrrruuuppps' she'd been handing out. This was a full-throated, hair-raising comment on my brother's last remark. Then she got up, stretched, and jumped down on the floor, scooting underneath my bed.

"There's one that can," I managed to get out, laughing as hard as I could. "At least your Maverick charm."

"What does she know? She's a cat."

An absolute howl of protest from under the bed. "I think you better quit before this gets any more contentious."

"Like I said yesterday, she's got an attitude. Just like the horse. Do you ever attract anything that doesn't?"

I looked him right in the eyes. "Nope. Ain't that why you hang around?"

Bret laughed and said, "Touché."

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I woke up briefly and went right back to sleep, this time with a cat in my arms. The next time I woke I was facing the other bed, and there was no Bret in it. There was also no cat next to me. I lay still for a minute, clearing my head, then sat up and looked outside. The late afternoon sun was hitting the deck, and the only thing in sight was an empty rocking chair and some fishing equipment. No cat, no brother, no sign of either of them. I reached under the bed and picked up my Jules Verne book and took it outside, and sat and read two or three chapters before I began to get a little concerned. Knowing Bret, he probably went for a walk, but what about Melody? Had she followed him and gotten lost? Didn't seem likely, she was a cat, after all.

That's when I heard the gunshot; it broke the stillness and shattered my reverie. Just one, and then silence again, but it was enough to leave me with all sorts of wild guesses about what had happened. I got up from the rocker and went inside for my gun belt, strapping it on and reaching for the shotgun standing in the corner, just in case I needed it. That's when I heard what sounded like somebody or something crashing through the underbrush. Whatever it was, it was coming fast. It was only a few seconds before I heard Bret yelling, "Bart! Bart, get out here!"

I practically flew out the door and my brother quickly came into view, running for all he was worth and carrying something close to his body in his left arm. A few seconds nearer and I could see that it was Melody he had hold of, and she wasn't fighting him. "Here, check her. See if he bit her," and he shoved the cat at me as soon as he got within reach.

"See if what bit her?" I asked slightly panicked, not quite sure what I was looking for.

"Copperhead," he gasped out, and bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Melody lay still while I examined every square inch of her. It was only when I was finished that she clawed her way out of my grasp and up onto my shoulder, where she sat trembling. "Clean," I told him, and then asked, "What happened?"

He put his hand up, and I waited until he had his breath back and could talk. "I went for a walk and your lady friend followed. I didn't see the snake until he struck at her. If he hadn't attacked her he probably would've gone after me; I was headed right for him."

"So the gunshot – "

"Was the copperhead. Yeah. You sure he didn't get her?"

"Sure. Come 'ere, little lady." I reached up and took her off my shoulder. She seemed calm now and swatted at my nose as I brought her down to eye level. "What'd you do, pick her up and run?"

He stood straight at last and nodded his head. "Figured she wouldn't let me check her out, ran back to you."

She 'Brrrrrrruuuppped' and head butted me, then started to purr. I looked her right in the eyes and told her, "Thank you for protectin' big brother. I'd be kinda lost without him." Then I looked over at Bret. "Thanks."

"For what?" he asked.

"For gettin' her back here, just in case."

He walked over to where I stood, holding the kitten, and reached out to scratch her ears. She let him and kept purring. I carried her in the crook of my arm as we walked back to the cabin. "Let's be careful, just in case the snake had a family."

"Fine idea," I agreed with him. That had been a close call. Good thing he had uninvited company on his walk. Or did he?


	5. The Old Days

Chapter 5 – The Old Days

I was back to fishing the next afternoon. The rabbit stew had been a nice change, but by the time we had dinner and fed the cat, there wasn't much left. And yes, Melody got as much as she had any interest in. Hell, after she saved Bret I'd have given her mine if I thought she wanted it.

So here we sat, as we had for the first three weeks I was here, with me fishing off the deck and the cat watching everything I did. Bret was taking an afternoon nap, and I was catching supper. He hadn't said a lot since yesterday afternoon, and I wasn't exactly sure why. I didn't know if it was the incident with the snake, although I couldn't imagine that would bother him so much, or my inquiries about Simon and Althea. Or something else entirely.

I had more questions to ask him about my 'sojourn' in Las Cruces, but it was evident I wasn't gonna get much out of him. Either he really didn't know any more than he'd already told me, or he was hiding something from me. Whichever it was, it didn't seem like a good time to push him any further on it.

There was another fish on the line, and when I flipped it onto the deck I recognized a bluegill. Melody sat and watched, as usual, but made no move for it when it flopped around. Maybe she was tired, too. I heard something and couldn't quite catch what it was, but I knew it had to be coming from Bret since we were the only two around. At least the only two that spoke.

He was definitely talking in his sleep. I couldn't understand most of what he was saying, but every now and then I could make out a word. There were three things that I heard distinctly – maybe they were the only things I wanted to hear distinctly. They were _Evy, marry,_ and _Bart._ Not together like that, mind you, but within a few seconds of each other. I, of course, was even more curious than I had been before.

I added a couple more fish to the pile and then decided that was enough for supper, and probably breakfast. Good thing, too, because we were all out of the salted bacon I'd brought with me, and Bret had forgotten some of the supplies. Looked like a trip into Junction Flats was on the agenda for tomorrow, unless we wanted to turn into fish from eating so many of them. I picked up the string and carried them inside, out of the way of you-know-who, just in case she decided she wanted her fish raw instead of cooked, and sat down on my bed. Bret stirred and I saw that his eyes were open.

"You awake for good or just temporary?" I asked.

"For now," is the way he answered me.

"We need to make a trip to Junction Flats. Unless you wanna eat fish for breakfast, lunch and supper for the next week."

"No, thank you. A trip sounds like a good idea. They got a saloon?"

"Why, you gonna take up drinkin'?"

"No, but I'd like to get beat at poker by somebody besides my brother."

I had to laugh. I'd fallen into one of those 'I can't lose' zones and it was about to kill Bret. "They've got a saloon. I'm sure you can find somebody there willin' to take your money."

"Good. Let's go early and we can get breakfast in town."

Either he was desperate for a different kind of breakfast or he wasn't thinking straight. "We go in too early you won't find a poker game. It's a sleepy little town, Bret."

He finally sat up in bed and looked at me. "Alright, alright, when do you wanna go?"

That was more like it. "About noon. We can get the supplies, sit in a game for a while, and eat supper before we come back. Unless you have other plans."

"Yeah, I wanna buy a new deck of cards."

A joke was a joke, but he seemed more than a little perturbed about my winning. "You do know I'm playin' straight with you, don't you?" I didn't want any confusion on the matter.

He reached over and patted my arm. "Of course I do. I'm just givin' you a hard time, son."

That was a relief to hear because something had been odd between us ever since we left Tucson. If I had said or done anything to cause the distance, I wanted to put an end to it, here and now. "Bret, we never really got a chance to talk about Tucson."

I saw him stiffen slightly, for just a moment, and then he relaxed again. "What about Tucson?"

"I'm sorry about what happened. I know you cared about Nora . . . "

He looked like he wanted to say something, and I stopped just in case, but I got nothing from him. "I'm sorry about the way things went down."

He sat there for another minute or two, then shook his head. "You didn't force the gunfight. Eamon did that all by himself."

"No, but things mighta been different if I hadn't stuck my nose in where it didn't belong."

"Ally asked you to do that, Bart."

"I coulda said no." This wasn't turning out the way I expected it to.

"So could I. Quit blamin' yourself. If Nora was the price for my brother stayin' alive . . . anyway, it's over. Nothin' to do now but keep goin'."

Now it was my turn to be silent for a moment. Then I thought of something. "You know, we can go into Junction Flats for breakfast if you want. By the time we eat and get what we need, somebody in that town's gotta have a poker game goin'."

He sat and looked at me for a while, then broke into a big grin. "Works for me. What about your little lady?"

"Melody? She'll be fine. I'll leave her some extra fish."

"Better her than me," and he laughed.

XXXXXXXX

We headed out the next morning around nine o'clock, still early enough to get breakfast and hope that it would be sometime after lunch when we hit the saloon. Even I have to admit that flapjacks and eggs was a welcome change from biscuits and bacon, or even worse, biscuits and fish.

As I'd said before, Junction Flats is a sleepy little town. It hadn't grown much since Bret and I had first seen it, when we were just kids. About the only changes in all those years was the building of a jail and a new saloon, which is probably why Pappy never took us there after Momma died. No sense going to a town where you couldn't play poker, and Rosie's Saloon didn't exist until two or three years ago.

Rosie's was nothing fancy, but it was clean and had three poker tables. It also employed a saloon girl during the daytime, an unusual practice for a place this small. Surprisingly, Bret and I both knew her – it was Margie Cashings, who'd practically grown up with us in Little Bend. There was a chair available in the poker game that was in progress, and Bret took it while I sat with Margie and bought her a drink.

"What are you two doin' here?" she asked, just as startled as we were to find someone we knew in this dusty hamlet.

"Takin' a break from everything. At least I am; I'm not so sure about my brother," I told her as Bret won the hand he was current playing.

"That doesn't surprise me. If it didn't eat, sleep or talk poker, Bret wasn't interested. You, darlin', were cut from a different piece a cloth." Margie smiled and sipped her whiskey as she said that.

"Not entirely," I reminded her. "I have other interests, but poker was always number one with me."

"Just remember, poker was one through a hundred for your brother. I think women ranked right after that. How about you? You ever find the right girl?" Margie and I had flirted for a while, but nothing serious ever came of it. We were pals more than anything else.

"A couple of 'em. But they never seem to work out too well."

She gave me kind of a quizzical look. "How much does that have to do with you and how much does that have to do with him?" she nodded toward Bret.

"Why would it have somethin' to do with my brother?"

"I always figured you'd be married someday with a whole passel a kids. He draggin' you all over the country to play poker?"

I shook my head. I knew what she was getting at, but she was wrong. "No, more often than not it's the other way around. I keep draggin' him all over the country."

"I guess it doesn't much matter, as long as you're happy."

I signaled the bartender over for another drink for Margie, leaving the statement banging against the walls of my head without being answered. Was I happy? Right now? I couldn't really say.

We sat and talked about old times and old friends, and before I knew it, a couple hours had gone by. Finally I remembered something and I asked Margie, "Say, weren't you gonna marry Bobby Russell? Whatever happened?"

Margie's face, which up till now had been relatively placid, took on a sad, melancholy appearance. "You didn't know? Bobby got killed at Shiloh."

"No, I didn't know. Sorry. You never married?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Bobby was everything to me. I just couldn't . . . I just couldn't." She looked away for a minute and when she looked back, she looked like the old Margie. "What about you? The army ever get you and Bret?"

"Oh yeah," I told her. "We got captured by the Yankees and spent time at Camp Douglas fore we ended up as Galvanized Yankees. Better fightin' Indians than rottin' in that hell-hole."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bret lay down his cards. Looked like he won another hand, and he glanced my way before picking up his money and walking over to the table Margie and I were sitting at. They greeted each other like old friends do and then Bret joined us for a cup of coffee. "What time you off, Margie?" my brother asked, something I'd forgotten to do.

"About an hour ago," she answered, and Bret and I had the same idea.

"Anyplace decent to eat in this town?" Bret asked her.

"Sure, there's a little café down the street. Pretty good food, nothin' spectacular."

"As long as they've got somethin' besides fish, I'm happy. Why don't you join us for supper?"

"Say, that's not a bad idea. Let me go change, and I'm ready to go. Or is it too early for the Maverick brothers?"

"Never too early when it comes to food," Bret answered.

"I'll be right back," and Margie got up from her chair, leaned over and kissed Bret on the cheek, then me, and sashayed off into the back room.

"Just like old times," Bret remarked.

"Not exactly. Weren't you sweet on Margie at one time?" I reminded him.

"Sort of. Until she fell in love with Bobby Russell. Say, what – "

"Killed at Shiloh."

"Oh. She married?" he wondered out loud.

"Nope. Not after Bobby."

"Well, maybe it'll do us all some good. Talk about the old days."

I inclined my head towards the poker table he'd just vacated. "How'd you do over there?"

Bret gave a short little laugh. "Better than I been doin' with you."

"Good. I can take it away from you when we get back to the cabin."


	6. The Next Stop

Chapter 6 – The Next Stop

We had a decent supper at Junction Flats Café, the three of us telling one story after another. When it was finally time for us to leave, I kissed Margie on the cheek, same as she'd done to me, but Bret gave her the full-on Maverick kiss and then apologized. "I couldn't resist, Margie," he told her, "I've been waitin' to do that since I was fourteen years old."

"Good thing you didn't," Margie informed him. "I'd have married you right then and there." We all three laughed and Margie made us promise that we'd come back to see her sometime. For the first time in a long while, it felt funny riding away from somebody we knew when we were kids.

The sun was starting to go down as we got back to the cabin, and by the time we had the horses taken care of and the supplies unloaded, it was dark. Melody was sitting on the deck, watching fish jump in the water, and she gave me a good scolding as soon as she saw me. Her supper was way overdue.

I fed her the rest of the fish from yesterday and she went back to purring.

Bret and I sat out on the deck and smoked cigars. Just sat and smoked, quietly thinking about everything that had gone on in the last year. Yuma, Tucson, Little Bend, Las Cruces, and now here at the Trinity River. The last year was complicated. Not that every year wasn't that way, but this one was almost more than one person could stand. I wondered what the year would have been like if I didn't have Bret for a brother, or any brother at all. I had the feeling that I wouldn't be sitting on the deck of this peaceful cabin right now, smoking. I'm glad I didn't have to find out.

"What's bothering you?" I was usually a little more subtle than that when I went poking around my brother's psyche, but right now I felt the need to be direct and, perhaps, blunt. Most of the time we talk, open and honest without too much in between us, but this time there was something I couldn't put my finger on. Maybe it was tied in with me, maybe it wasn't. Bret was being deliberately evasive and secretive, but only in small measure. Probably didn't even realize he was doing it.

"Nothin'," he told me as he blew smoke rings out into the crisp night air. It smelled like fall, it felt like fall, but it still tasted like summer. My brother had just out and out lied to me, one of the few times in his life that he'd done so, and I didn't know why. And the reason for the lie was bound to drive me crazier than the lie itself.

We'd moved the rocker back inside the cabin and we were both sittin' on the floor like twelve-year-olds, our backs up against the deck railing and our legs stretched out in front of us. "No, that's not the truth, and you know it's not." I took another draw on the cigar and crossed my legs, blowing the smoke out in front of me like a ladies white nightgown. "Has it got somethin' to do with what happened those eight days in Little Bend? Is that why you don't wanna talk to me?"

Now those were the kind of questions that Bret usually pays no attention to. Maybe he thinks that if he ignores me long enough I'll quit asking him. After all these years he ought to know better than that. But this time he gave me an answer, and I believe it was an honest one. "Yeah."

"Alright. I'll let it go for now. But you have to talk to me sooner or later about it." How long had he waited for an explanation about Mexico? Now it was my turn, and I'd wait on him.

"Thanks. I will. Now, how about some poker? Think we can teach the cat to play?"

I looked over at her, resting comfortably between the two of us. "I don't know," I told him. "She'd probably beat us."

XXXXXXXX

I had a dream that night, for the first time in quite a while, and I remembered most of it. This one didn't wake me up in a cold sweat, the way they usually did, but I knew what I was goin' to do when we left here in a few days.

Neither of us said much at breakfast. At least we had more biscuit makin's, and plenty of salt bacon, and Melody was just as happy as could be to have something for breakfast besides fish again. So was I, truth be told. Bret picked up the dishes to wash them and when he was almost done asked me, "You got Momma's Bible here with you?"

I nodded my head. "Always," I told him. "You want it?"

"Yeah, when you get a chance."

That was totally out of character. How many times had I offered the Good Book to my brother, either to read or keep, and he'd turned me down, or taken it and never opened it at all? So for him to ask for it meant that somethin' was eatin' at him, one way or the other. I'd pushed on him hard enough yesterday, and I wasn't gonna do it again today.

I left the Bible on his bed and decided it was time to get cleaned up. Melody followed me out onto the deck of the cabin but that was as far as she was going. I've never seen a cat look quite as perplexed as she did when I slid into the river with soap in one hand and a clean piece of towel in the other. What I spent the next few minutes doing made absolutely no sense to her. Remember, this criticism coming from an animal that licked herself clean regularly.

By the time I got done gettin' clean and shaving, Bret was fully dressed and sitting in the rocking chair, which he'd moved back to the deck, cat in lap. "I see you two have finally come to a meeting of the minds," I told him as I pulled myself out of the river and dried off. Bret had the Bible in one hand, while the other hand was petting Melody.

"Yeah, she kinda grows on ya," he chuckled back. "Whatta you gonna do when we leave? With her, I mean."

"Take her back to Pappy and Ben," I told him with no hesitation.

"For the house?"

"For wherever she wants to be. I'd rather she stay in the house, yeah, but it's up to her."

He nodded, but whether it was in understanding or agreement, I'm not sure. "You got someplace you're goin' after Little Bend?"

"Yeah." I know he was waiting for an explanation, but I didn't offer one.

"You want some company?"

"You won't like it."

"That's not what I asked."

I know better than to ignore his questions, even though he ignores mine. "Yeah, some company would be good."

He sat there for almost five full minutes while I got dressed before he couldn't stand it anymore. "Alright, where?"

"New Mexico Territory."

"New Mexico Territory? We goin' to – "

"Yeah," I interrupted. "Las Cruces."


	7. Inventing the Girl

Chapter 7 – Inventing the Girl

"Why, in heaven's name?"

That, of course, was the question that followed my revelation of where I was headed after leaving the cabin on the river. I'm sure that Bret wasn't expecting my answer – Las Cruces – but that's where I was going.

"Because," was the only reply I could give him right now.

"You ain't Pappy, Bart, you don't get to play that card."

"Too bad, that's the only one I got."

He stood up then, Melody forgotten, and grabbed my shirt as I finished buttoning it. "Why? Why do you have to go to Las Cruces?"

"Because there's somethin' that's pullin' me there." I brushed his hand away from my clothes and walked back into the cabin. The cat ran under my bed. She didn't seem to like his reaction any more than I did. He followed me inside, not angry but disturbed.

"Don't. Please, I'm beggin' you, don't go to New Mexico."

"Can you give me a good reason why I shouldn't go?"

He didn't answer me. I picked up my hat and walked out of the cabin, around to where the horses were tied. I saddled Noble and mounted, then rode off into the woods. There was no voice calling me back, nothing to ask me where I was going, and I headed Noble up the hill and away from the river. I needed to get as far away from the cabin and Bret as I could, without knowing why. It was just a feeling that I had – something wasn't right between us, and my brother was the only one that knew what it was. Or why it was. And he didn't appear to be talking.

I wasn't mad at him, but I can't say I wasn't upset with him. I didn't understand what the big secret was. Maybe we'd been spending too much time together. Maybe Bret should go find Beau and visit with him for a while, and let me make this trip to Las Cruces by myself. I wanted him to go with me, but not if it was gonna make him crazy.

I rode for a long time, taking Noble up and away from the river, and before I realized it I'd ridden into Trinity, a little town west of Junction Flats. I really hadn't been paying any attention to where I was going, but now that I was here I might as well take advantage of it. I looked for a saloon, and found a cozy looking little place called Lulabelle's.

Before too long I was playing poker and drinking coffee. That's not what I'd intended to do, but it took my mind off my brother and gave me something else to think about for a while. One hand of poker led to another and before I knew it most of the day had passed. Fortunately I was still on one of those 'I can't lose for winnin' streaks that I'd started off on with Bret, and I was several hundred dollars ahead when I got up from the table.

There was a little café down the street and I stopped in there to eat before heading back to the cabin and the brother I'd run away from this morning. I still didn't know what to do about Bret; I didn't want us to part company on unsettled terms, but after I left Uncle Ben's house I was goin' to New Mexico. If he didn't wanna go with me, he had every right not to.

Noble and I rode back slow, neither one of us in any particular hurry to get back, and it was almost dark by the time I arrived. Bret's black stallion was there, peacefully grazing, so I knew that Bret was still exactly where I'd left him that morning.

I took care of Noble and walked around the side of the cabin and found my brother and my cat both fishing. Melody wasn't really my cat, she was her own cat, but for all intents and purposes she seemed to belong to me. Bret looked up and smiled, and it was the most genuine look I'd seen from him in two or three days. "Hey, there he is. You have a good day?"

"Yep," I replied. "You teach Melody to fish?"

"Didn't have to," he explained. "She's a natural." Just as Bret finished, the cat reached into the river and flipped a small fish onto the deck. She then proceeded to enjoy supper.

"I see. No wonder she was doin' just fine before she wandered into camp."

"Bart." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. It didn't require a reply, and I didn't provide one. I took my hat off and went inside, throwing it on the bed. A few seconds later I heard "Bart" again. I removed my jacket, putting it next to the hat, and went back out onto the deck.

"What?" I asked my brother.

"I'm sorry about this mornin'. I was . . . wrong."

"Yeah. You were."

He set the fishing pole down and stood up. "How about if I make a pot of coffee and we talk?"

"Sure." I had to smile just a little. It had been a long time since I'd answered 'sure' to anything, and Bret used to call it my second favorite word. I thought I saw just a little smile on his face, too.

I cleared the deck of the rocking chair and brought out a blanket that I spread across the rough wooden planks. Might as well sit on something comfortable. Bret came out a few minutes later carrying coffee and handed me a cup, then sat down right across from me. We were back to playing twelve-year-olds again.

He pulled out two cigars and handed me one, then lit it and lit his own. We sat and smoked and drank coffee while the cat decided she was tired and went inside, to join my hat and jacket on the bed. Halfway through the cup, Bret finally spoke. "I can give you a good reason why you shouldn't go to Las Cruces."

"Alright," I told him, "let's hear it."

"Because you're gonna get your heart broke if you go."

XXXXXXXX

"What?"

"You heard me. You're gonna get your heart broke if you go."

I had the coffee cup halfway to my mouth and stopped it right where it was. "Why would you say that?" I gave it a moment's thought, and then added, "Why would you think that?"

"Because."

I shook my head in protest. "Oh no, you don't get to use that as a reason. You wouldn't let me use it." God, the man was stubborn. "Just tell me, Bret. Somethin's been botherin' you for weeks. Don't make me guess what I did wrong anymore, please." I thought he was just gonna sit there again without answering me.

I threw the rest of my cigar out into the river and heard it make a 'splash.' I was about to get up and go in to bed when he finally spoke. "You didn't do anything wrong. While you were fightin' that God-awful infection, you were delirious most of the time. I told you, you invented an entire life in Las Cruces. What I didn't tell you was that you also invented the girl you were about to marry when I came to get you."


	8. In Dreams

Chapter 8 – In Dreams

I just sat there and looked at Bret for several minutes. In a manner of speaking it didn't surprise me; I knew from the way he'd been acting that this was something sizeable and out of the ordinary. In another way it scared the hell out of me. Who not only invents an entire life but the girl you're gonna spend the rest of that life with? Then I considered some of the wild dreams and nightmares I'd had over the years and it made perfect sense. Except the part about Bret coming to get me. I had to know, what was that about?

"Say something," was the next thing I heard.

"You came to get me? What does that mean?" From the look on Bret's face, those were not the questions he expected me to ask. His voice was real soft and sorrowful when he finally did answer me.

"The night . . . the night you died. You'd started breathin' again, but that was all. You weren't awake; you weren't there with us. Just your body, layin' in that bed, waitin' for somethin' to happen. I stayed in that room so you wouldn't be alone, and I fell asleep and had a dream. A dream different from anything I'd ever had before. It was . . . it was like I was inside the world you'd created. And you were there, sittin' on a porch, in somebody else's rockin' chair. I sat next to you, and you had a gold ring in your hand. A woman's ring, Bart, with some kinda design on it."

Bret stopped and took a drink of coffee. I wasn't gonna say or do anything to push him or try and hurry him up; I'd waited long enough for him to tell me this and he needed to do it in his own time, in his own way. I recognized the ring from his description, though, and I knew I'd bought it.

"You didn't know who I was, but we talked. About you and the girl. About you comin' back with me. About me and Pappy needin' you to come back. About what would happen if you didn't."

I lit another cigar. I needed something to do with my hands, and that was the only thing I could think of. There was a tight little knot forming in the pit of my stomach, and I figured it was only gonna get bigger as his story went on. This was one time I wished I had somethin' to steady my nerves because they were about to jump outta my skin. I looked over at my brother and saw him watching me.

"You kept sayin' . . . that you loved the girl. That you couldn't leave her; that you didn't wanna leave her. Then . . . " He stopped, and I looked up to see why. In the faint moonlight I thought I could see a single tear roll down my brother's face. "You looked at me again and recognized me. I asked you to come home, one more time, and you finally agreed. Told me you had to say goodbye to her; told you I'd wait for you. Then . . . then I woke up. And your eyes were open. You followed me home."

We both sat there, in the dark and stillness of the night, and I tried to figure out how much of what Bret had told me was real and how much was his dream. What bothered me the most was that I remembered Las Cruces – the people, the places, what was happening around me. Most of it, anyway. All except the girl. The girl . . . the girl . . . what was her name? And then what he'd called her came back to me. Evelyn. Evelyn Sunday. And in a flash, a moment of recognition, I saw her. Tall, beautiful, dark chocolate hair and black, black eyes – almost as dark as Bret's. Slender and willful, determined and mischievous, she took my breath away. No wonder I'd wanted to stay with her instead of coming back to the land of the living.

"I, uh . . . I . . . "

"You remember her, don't you?"

What else was I gonna say? "Yeah."

"All of it, or just her?"

I swallowed before I answered. There was no sense in lying. "I'm . . . I'm not sure. A lot of it. I don't know if that's all of it. But I remember her. Evy. My God, I was gonna marry her, wasn't I?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You were. I couldn't let you stay there, Bart. It woulda meant . . . "

I interrupted him. "I know. That I chose death over living. No, you couldn't let me stay. I understand."

"Do you?"

I got up off the deck and looked out over the water. It was still and dark, and the only thing I could see was the reflection the moon made. Bret's voice came from behind me. "You alright?"

"Sure." It was the second time I'd said it this evening. And I was alright. I understood that the choice had been between fantasy and reality, an entire family and one girl, life and death. Bret made the right choice, and so did I. Maybe Evy Sunday was real, somewhere out there where I would find her someday, and maybe she wasn't. But even if it never happened, if I never met the girl in my other life, I still had to come back. For Pappy. For Bret. But mostly for me.


	9. The Ride BAck

Part II – Little Bend

Chapter 1 – The Ride Back

I was sorry, in a way, to see my time at Trinity River end. I'd gotten to rest, and sleep, and fish, and generally do nothing more strenuous than listen to the cicadas. I'd acquired a cat, or rather she'd acquired me, and a brother free of the guilt that had shadowed him since the day I died.

Bret told me that I now looked the way I had in his dream – tanned, well-rested, thin but not emaciated, and most of all – smiling and content. That was on the outside, of course. On the inside I was still fidgety about New Mexico, feeling the pull of a time and a place that I didn't yet know – Las Cruces somewhere in the future, or past. Had my time there already taken place, or was it still in front of me? Did it even exist in reality at all, or only in my imagination?

I couldn't answer those questions just yet, and there was only one way I could think of to get them answered . . . go to Las Cruces and see what transpired. Bret had gotten genuinely disturbed when I told him that's what I was gonna do, and he'd just settled back down. I could wait to tell him I was still going to New Mexico.

We packed up the cabin and said goodbye to the Trinity River. Being out here, away from most everything determined to gum up the workings of my mind, had been a life-saver. Even with what was still hanging over me I felt better than I had in years, more at peace with my past. My biggest problem at the moment was how to get a small, furry beast home without too much inconvenience to anyone, especially her. I finally fashioned a bag out of an old shirt that allowed Melody to ride in comfort and still see out. I wasn't sure how she was going to take hanging with the bag wrapped around the pommel, but after a bit she settled in and actually seemed to enjoy it.

We'd started out early in the morning and only had to camp one night before arriving back at Uncle Ben's ranch the next evening. I'd been worried that once we made camp and went to sleep for the night the kitten might decide to head for parts unknown, but she curled up and slept with me without any problem. I made sure she had a belly full of bacon the next morning, and she appeared content to ride for another day. Maybe she'd figured out that the life she was going to would be easier and safer than the life she was coming from. In any event, she was still with me when we arrived at my uncle's front door.

"I'll take care of the horses," Bret announced.

"Don't you wanna see what happens when Pappy and Ben meet the new lady of the house?" I asked him.

"I don't even wanna hear what happens, but I've no doubt that I will," he told me as he led Noble and Blackthorn towards the barn.

I sighed, anticipating potential howls of protest, and carried my newest addition in my arms. "Let's go meet the folks, shall we?" I asked her as the front door opened and Lily Mae came out to greet us.

"I'm so happy that you're home. You look wonderful! Where's your brother?" she asked first, and then caught sight of what I held. "Oh, my goodness," she cooed and immediately reached for the cat. "Where did you get this?"

"I didn't get her, she got me," I explained. "Melody, meet Lily Mae. Lily Mae, this is Miss Melody. When she meows you'll understand why." As if on cue, Melody rubbed up against Lily Mae's chin and let out a soft 'Brrrrrrruuuppp'.

"Oh, what a sweet little lady!" Lily Mae exclaimed, and Melody winked at me and smiled. I swear she did.

"Don't let her demeanor fool you. She's a vicious killer, especially of fish and small rodents. She is not to be a barn cat," I explained. "I promised her a house, and she shall have a house. And by the way, she loves bacon."

"Well, aren't you just the cutest thing? How did you happen to latch onto this one, for heaven's sake? What does she think of the other Maverick boy? And where is your brother, in the barn?"

"Hiding out with the horses. He's afraid of the big, bad Maverick men. Melody has charmed even big brother, so all she has to do now is take care of Pappy and Uncle Ben."

Lily Mae and I walked into the house, and before we got too far inside I was overtaken by the two I'd just talked about. I got a genuine embrace from Pappy, not the standoffish little handshakes we used to share, and the same warm greeting that I always got from Ben. And then the moment I'd been anticipating and dreading – Pappy caught sight of Melody and went straight to Lily Mae.

"WHAT is this?" he rumbled as he picked her up by the scruff and held her out in front of him. Before I could say anything Melody gave him a 'Brrrrrrruuuppp' and patted his nose with her paw. And our big, fierce Pappy melted into a little, tiny child with a new kitten. For the next fifteen minutes everything but Melody was forgotten, as Pappy and Ben 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over her. By the time Bret walked into the house I was in the kitchen drinking coffee, and the two so-called 'elder statesmen' were in the main room on their hands and knees, each making a desperate attempt to emerge as the fur-balls favorite.

Bret joined me in the kitchen after receiving an appropriate greeting from Lily Mae and sat down at the table, shaking his head and laughing uncontrollably. "What has gotten into those two?"

"See what happens when you bring a new lady into the house?" Lily Mae chuckled. She turned to me and asked, "Not what you expected, is it?"

"Not in a million years, Lily," I told her. "So I don't have to worry about them not wantin' her to stay?"

"I should think not, from the way they're actin'," Bret responded. "I don't believe that they even know we're here."

"Oh, they know you're here. That's all they been talkin' about for the last two days. _'When are the boys comin' home?'_ That's been the only topic of conversation, till you walked in the door with that little critter. They'll get used to her an figure out where you are. How long are you stayin' this time? And how do you feel?"

"Probably a week," I told her. I caught a sideways look from my brother, but it was easy enough to ignore. "And I feel fine. Really good, actually. Particularly for a man that was dead."

"Don't bring that up, Mr. B. I don't even wanna think about it. An don't go doin' that again, would ya?"

I gave her a big old Maverick grin. "I have no intention of dying, Lily. At least not in the near future."

"Stick to that, would ya?" I heard Bret mumble, but Lily and me both ignored him.

It was probably ten or fifteen minutes later when Ben and Pappy walked into the kitchen. Ben had won this round, he had Melody tucked under his arm, and she looked about as happy as I'd seen her. "Lily Mae, what have we got – " Ben started, but Lily interrupted him.

"I've got some leftover meat from dinner. Let's see what she thinks about that."

Of course, Melody thought that was just fine; anything she didn't have to catch was good with her. Now that the kitten was occupied with food, the attention turned back to me and Bret.

"You look good," Pappy said as he patted my arm.

"He should," Bret informed him. "He's been sittin' around fishin' and readin' for a month. Not much else to do down there."

"Except beat you at poker," I reminded my brother.

"Did you all go into Junction Flats? Or Trinity?" Uncle Ben asked.

"I was in both. Junction Flats finally built a saloon – Rosie's. And a new jail. Which I did not see the inside of, praise the Lord."

"Hatch's still in Trinity?" Pappy asked.

"Nope, it's Lulabelle's now. Nice enough little place. Spent some time there, too."

"Both of ya?"

Bret shook his head. "He went by himself."

A look of alarm flashed through Pappy's eyes. "Did you . . . ?"

"Tell Bart about his delirium and the girl? Yeah, I did."

Pappy reached over and grasped my arm again. What happened over a month ago must have really troubled him, because he was being more physically affectionate than he'd been in a while. "You alright?" he asked me.

"Sure, why wouldn't I be? It wasn't like Caroline. It was a dream, Pappy, a delusion. It wasn't real." Now if Bret would only keep still, and not tell everyone what my plans were . . .

I was in luck, at least for the moment. Although he gave me one of his infamous looks, he said nothing. I nodded slightly and he looked away. I knew what that meant – the discussion we'd been having over my travelling plans wasn't over.

Melody, having finished supper, let out a loud 'meeeooowwwrr', which meant _'I need to go outside.'_ Being in an unfamiliar place, I opened the back door and walked out into the yard with her. She found a convenient spot and took care of what she needed to take care of, then we wandered off into the barn for a while. Uncle Ben had an old hound dog named Gracie who slept out there, and the hound and kitten soon introduced themselves to each other. I watched them get better acquainted until Bret joined me; he reached out and put his hand on my arm but didn't do anything else.

"You're still goin', aren't you?" It sounded like a question, but it really wasn't. My plans hadn't changed, and he knew it.

"You know I am. So quit askin' me."

"Why, Bart? Why do you have to go someplace that you haven't been in years? Just to see what's there? To see if Evy Sunday and everybody else is real? How am I gonna explain all that nonsense to Pappy and Ben?"

"You don't have to, Bret. I'll tell them what I'm gonna do myself. Just let it sit for a few days, alright? If you can't go with me, can you at least do that for me?" He'd avoided looking at me as I spoke, but now he turned slowly and faced me. He could see the pleading in my eyes. I hoped it was enough to convince him to let me handle whatever 'telling' needed to be done.

I had my answer sooner than I'd expected. "Alright, I'll keep quiet. Until Saturday. If you haven't said somethin' by then . . . "


	10. On Fire

Chapter 2 – On Fire

Pappy and Uncle Ben decided to stay home instead of going into Little Bend to play poker that night, so Ben started a fire in the main room fireplace and it was agreed we'd play amongst ourselves. Now the first thing I did was clear up just what kind of game it was gonna be – again, regular poker or Maverick poker. After some discussion, everyone finally agreed that we would play the game honestly. Pappy seemed intrigued by the fact that I had beaten Bret regularly while we were at the river, and I think he wanted a straightforward chance to find out just what kind of a winning ride I was on.

Lily Mae made a fresh pot of coffee and joined us in front of the fire, deciding to knit Melody a blanket of her very own so that she'd be nice and warm should she choose to sleep somewhere other than my bed. I figured once I was gone the cat would find a 'substitute human' to spend her time with, but whatever made Lily Mae happy made me happy, too. Once everything was set up we began, and it didn't take long before I was back at it again. I have no idea why the poker gods or Lady Luck had smiled on me, but I wasn't gonna argue with them.

Beating Bret was nothing out of the ordinary – not to say that I always beat him. We were evenly matched – and we split winning against the other one fairly equally. Beating Ben was more difficult – not impossible, just more challenging. He and Pappy were a cut above anybody we regularly played against. Beating Pappy – that was impossible when we were young, but over the years it had happened on more than one occasion. Tonight I was on fire, and everything seemed to come my way. Pappy couldn't even out bluff me – and he darned sure tried. I hadn't been on a tear like this since – well, since the poker games in my head in Las Cruces.

Yeah, I remembered all of it. Poker games with the 'boys' – Aiden, Lee, Mayor Miguel, Hank, Sheriff Hamilton and Billy. Breakfasts at Sugars – with Jancy and Sugar herself. Clint teachin' the little ones to ride. And finally Evy – beautiful, soulful Evy. The way she fit in my arms. The feeling of her body next to mine. The taste of her lips. The way we loved each other.

We played all evening and well into the morning. When we were done, I had it all – every poker chip and anything else we'd used. Pappy just sat there shaking his head. "What's gotten into you, boy?" he asked me.

"Darned if I know, Pappy. I been that way for a while."

"Yeah, ever since we got him back," Bret informed them. "Hmmm, maybe . . . "

"Don't you even think that," Lily Mae cut in.

I yawned, and Uncle Ben quickly followed. "I'm worn out," I declared. "I'm goin to bed. Melody, you comin' with me?" She got up and stretched, yawned and 'Brrrrrrruuuppped' the way she always does. "Goodnight, Uncle Ben, Pappy, Brother Bret. And goodnight to you too, Lily Mae. I'll see you all tomorrow – today. Later."

I left and climbed the stairs, back to the spare room rather than my normal room, the place where I'd died. I wasn't quite ready to sleep in that bed yet. Melody followed me and jumped up on the mattress, finding herself a spot and curling up in a ball. She watched as I undressed and got ready to sleep, and finally closed her eyes as I slipped under the sheet. "Pleasant dreams, little girl," I wished her as I closed my own eyes. It wasn't the river, but I could still hear the cicadas outside, and I quickly drifted off.

XXXXXXXX

 _I was driving the buggy, and it was springtime. Evy was in the seat beside me, with a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket in her arms. Billy bounced in the back seat, the way he always did when we came home from church; he couldn't wait to get back to the ranch and Grandpa Bill. Evy's Pa tried to go with us as often as possible, but most days it was just too difficult for him to get out of bed. We'd had Isabelle Josephine christened this morning, and he'd wanted desperately to be there, but he'd come down with a cold two days ago and just couldn't make it._

" _Settle down back there, Billy," I heard Evy tell our oldest, who was rapidly approaching his third birthday. The boy sat still for about thirty seconds and then started fidgeting all over again. He had enough energy for two little boys, and sometimes I thought there_ _was_ _two of him. Bella protested the ruts and holes we drove over on the road, and Evy turned her attention back to our beautiful little girl. I say beautiful but of course I'm prejudiced. Billy had his Uncle Bret's black hair and his mother's black eyes, but Bella was a blonde angel with bright blue eyes._

" _Are you all ready for your first riding lesson?" I asked my son, who stuck his head next to my shoulder and giggled._

" _Betcha, daddy!" he laughed, and I laughed with him. Tenora was gonna take care of Miss Bella while Evy and me put the boy on his very first pony. I'm not sure who was the most excited – Billy, his mother, or me. Clint, longtime employee of the Maverick/Sunday Ranch, would be there to take over the lesson if one of us got too 'parenty'._

 _Evy was crooning a lullaby to Bella, and I was enchanted with the sight and sound of my girls. "How did I ever get so lucky?" I asked out loud, and the question caused my wife to smile._

" _Faster, daddy, faster! Gotta see Mooney!" That was the pony we'd found for Billy, nearly six months ago, and my baby boy had been fascinated ever since we brought the little grey man home. He was almost beside himself with joy that he'd actually get to sit on Mooney today._

" _Can't go much faster, son. We have to be careful with your Mother and sister, remember?"_

" _Oh, sure." He'd adopted my habit of answering 'sure' to anything that required a 'yes' or 'no' answer. "Careful with Bella. Must protect sistuh!"_

 _Evy and I exchanged looks, both of us smiling and content. I didn't see how life could get any better than it already was._

I woke up slowly, unlike the way I woke from most of my dreams, with Melody playing pitty-pat on my nose. I lay in bed for a few minutes and savored the slice of imaginary world that I'd just experienced, then swung my legs around and sat up. I knew it wasn't real, and it only served to reinforce my conviction to head to Las Cruces later in the week.

There was a soft knock at my door and I slid back under the sheets as I answered, "Come in, Lily Mae!"

She entered with a plate of sardines, and Melody's eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. "Had these forever," she told me as she set it down on the floor. The cat was there instantly. "Next time you go into town you can pick up some more, and I'll make sure she gets 'em once in a while. And anything else you can think of that she might eat. Just so I've got it here."

"So you don't think there'll be a problem with her stayin' here?" I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from Lily Mae herself.

"Are you kiddin'? Did you see those two grown men on the floor with her yesterday? She's got a home as long as she wants it. Speakin' of those two – they're downstairs eatin' breakfast. Git yourself dressed and git down there."

"What about Bret?"

"I'm goin' to roust him out in a bit. And try eatin' somethin', instead of just drinkin' coffee. You finally look like you're not gonna pass out from hunger – see that ya keep it that way."

"Yes, mother," I told her, and Lily was laughing as she closed the door behind her. I got dressed in a hurry – I hadn't had eggs in over a month, and I knew Lily had plenty of good food just waitin' downstairs. I didn't know what else she had waitin' down there, though, as I pulled my boots on and headed for the kitchen. It was definitely somebody I wasn't expecting.


	11. A Change is Gonna Come

Chapter 3 – A Change is Gonna Come

I hurried down the stairs, anxious to grab a cup of coffee and some eggs, along with whatever else Lily Mae had conjured up for breakfast. Pappy and Uncle Ben were already well into theirs, but both had stopped short to flirt shamelessly with our unexpected guest. She looked as beautiful as she had the last time I saw her, and I got a big hug and a kiss from her.

"Hiya, handsome," Doralice said, calling me by the moniker her mother had first used. "You're lookin' fine."

I laughed out loud; that was the effect Doralice Donovan always had on me. "You don't look so bad yourself. What brings you all the way out here? Surely not to see these two old reprobates."

"Actually, I'm here for two reasons. The first is to see you. It's been quite a while since you were inside Maude's for any length of time, and that seems to be the only time you're around anymore."

"Sorry for that. Life's been a little odd the last year or so." I pulled out a chair for her and she sat down, then I grabbed two cups and the coffee pot, and poured us both a cup. I offered her a plate but she declined, so I filled mine with eggs, bacon, and Lily Mae's biscuits. There was already peach jam on the table, and I couldn't wait to get into it.

"You look good, Bart. How you feelin'?"

I wondered if there was a reason for her question or if she was just bein' polite. Of course, it might have been more than just good manners. Doralice had never made a secret of her affection for me, and I tended to feel the same about her. The difference is she'd indicated a desire to be more than affectionate; and I had no intention of leading her on, no matter how beautiful she was. Doralice and I were never gonna be any more than friends. Good friends, maybe, but friends.

"Feel good, Doralice. The pain's all gone, and I got my lightning fast draw back." I gave her a big grin as I put a forkful of eggs in my mouth. Nothing is as good as Lily Mae's scrambled eggs.

"You joker," she laughed, and hit my arm, almost making me drop a piece of bacon. That might have made the kitten happy, but she was still upstairs eating sardines. "No after effects from the infection?"

"Nothin' physical," I told her, and she looked at me a little confused, but I didn't elaborate any further. "You said you were here for two reasons. What's the second?"

She took a drink of coffee and then set the cup down. "Actually, it's more a problem than a reason. Maude's havin' some trouble with the cigar store that's next to us. Well, not the store, but the man that owns it. Well, not him either, his daughter owns it now. He died. Come into town with me and talk to Maude. She could really use your help. Will you?"

I ate another piece of bacon and drank some coffee. "Right now?"

"Now would be nice, but later is fine. If you come in around supper or a little after we could go up to the café and eat. Or back to Maude's and . . . have a meal there. How about it?"

I considered it for a minute. "Alright, I can do that. I'll be there about five o'clock. Will that work for you and Maude?"

"Suits me just fine. I'm sure it'll be good for Maude, too. And I have something else to ask, but not for Maude. It's for Doctor Petry."

"Simon? What does he need?" I hadn't seen Simon in five or six weeks, since before I left for Trinity River.

"Needs nothing," Doralice told me. "But he wants to see you, check how you're doin', and he still doesn't feel comfortable comin' out here. Told me to ask you to come by and see him. Will you go? He said he'd really appreciate it."

I nodded as I finished my coffee. "I'll do that before I talk to Maude. Tell him I said sure."

Doralice stood, and I walked her to the door. She kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks, Bart. I'll see you later. Maude'll be glad to know you're comin' in." Out the door she went, and I helped her into the buggy. There was a look in her eyes that I hadn't seen in a while – a tender, playful look. "Make sure you don't have to be anywhere this evenin', will you? I've missed you." And before I could say anything else she was gone, leaving me to ponder exactly what she meant.

"Beautiful girl," Uncle Ben commented when I returned and poured myself another cup of coffee.

"Beautiful woman," I corrected him as I sat back down at the table. "She always has been. Take a look at her mother."

"I have, on several occasions," Pappy injected. "A truly fine lookin' woman. Couldn't do much better than Doralice, son."

There was that word again. Son. What had gotten into Pappy?

Before I could say anything else there was a loud 'Brrrrrrruuuppp', Melody making herself known, followed shortly by the arrival of Bret. He shoveled food onto a plate and set it on the table, then poured himself coffee and refilled everyone's cup before sitting down. Pappy reached over and snatched a piece of bacon from his plate, breaking it into two pieces and giving one to Melody. I imagine she was a pretty happy girl at that point. Bret made a face but said nothing, and Pappy ate the other piece.

"Now he's got you doin' it," Bret protested.

"Doin' what?" Pappy asked.

"Feedin' the cat," my brother answered. "What else?"

Next into the kitchen was Lily Mae, who asked me, "Is she gone already?"

"Is who gone?" Bret queried between bites.

"Doralice."

Bret made an unhappy face. "She was here and I missed her? What did she want?"

"Not what, who," Uncle Ben explained. "She was after Bart."

"That's nothing new. What did she want him for this time?"

"When I find out you'll be the first to know." With that I pushed back my chair and took my dishes to the sink. "Lily Mae, you want some help?"

"No, no, Mr. B, you go on and do whatever it is you gotta do. Will you be home for supper tonight?"

I shook my head. I wasn't exactly sure just what kind of supper Doralice wanted to have with me, but I don't think she and Lily Mae were talking about the same thing. "No ma'am, I won't. But I'll be here for breakfast tomorrow."

Bret grinned but didn't say anything. Pappy got that look in his eyes, the kind that told everyone he was missing momma, and Ben simply put his dishes in the sink and left the room. I followed my Uncle out onto the porch. He was just sitting down in one of the rockers and lighting a cigar, and I joined him.

"Somethin' botherin' you, nephew?"

I blew out smoke from the cigar before I answered him. "Everything alright with Pappy?"

"Are things ever alright with Beauregard?"

"I'm serious, Ben. He just seems . . . different."

"This ain't meant to criticize, Bart, but you know how tough things were when you lost Caroline. Losin' a child is a thousand times harder than that. You're walkin' around here now, by the grace a God, but your pappy sat in that chair next to your bed and watched you die. I can't begin to imagine what that feels like, and I hope I never have to. It's changed him. And it's a good change. I see it in the way he acts; I hear it in the way he talks. You've felt it, or you wouldn't have said anything. It's a change that was a long time comin'. He knew you needed some time alone, but he couldn't wait for you to get home. And when you came – he's like the brother I grew up with again, not the tough-as-nails hardass he turned into. Don't get me wrong – he's still Beauregard. But he's a kinder, gentler version of Beauregard."

I hadn't thought about that. What would Pappy do if I headed off to Las Cruces right away? I can't imagine he'd be real happy, but at the same time I still felt the need to go, now stronger than ever. Maybe I could wait a few days. Maybe . . . well, I wasn't gonna make a decision right now. I'd see how the rest of the week went. "Thanks, Ben. You gave me somethin' to think about."

"I hope so. Ain't none of us gettin' any younger, specially that man inside."

I was done with the cigar, and I was done with sittin' on the porch. Now that I'd had sleep and food, what I wanted most of all was a bath and clean clothes. In that order.


	12. Conversation on a Hilltop

Chapter 4 – Conversation on a Hilltop

Lily Mae is a magician when it comes to whipping up enough hot water for a bath; after tending to five men on and off for years, she's had to be. Once I'd taken that bath and gotten clean clothes I went looking for Pappy. We hadn't sat down in . . . well, in an awful long time, and I wanted to spend the afternoon with him.

I found him out in the barn, smoking a cigar and visiting the horses. That wasn't much like him, but there was a bay mare that he'd ridden for years who now spent her days eating grass and relaxing, and he tended to visit her now and again. What I didn't know was that he went and talked to her when he was missing momma and wasn't inclined to take a ride to the Maverick family graveyard. So it took me a minute to understand just what was goin' on when I found him out there introducing Melody to the horse.

Pappy was sitting on a bale of hay in Fancy's stall, with the cat listening intently to every word he said. I had the feeling that Melody had gone and picked her substitute human, and I thought it was a good match. They could keep each other company when I wasn't here, and I knew Pappy would see to it she got everything she needed.

This was the gist of the conversation as I got within earshot: "So it's gonna be just us hangin' around here when Bart leaves. I don't know if Bret's travelin' with him or not, but from the looks goin' back an forth between the two of 'em, I'd say the answer is probably yes. That leaves the three of us, with Ben and Gracie, and you know those two are like old women when they get together. I expect you two to get along." I cleared my throat so Pappy would know I was there, and he finished his conversation with, "We'll talk later."

"You makin' introductions?" I asked as I walked up to the stall.

"Of course not. Why would I introduce a cat to a horse?" Uncle Ben was right about one thing – Beauregard was still Beauregard, no matter what else he might have become. "You lookin' for me?"

"I was, yeah. You got some time?"

"That seems to be all I got, these days. Whatta you need?" He started to get up, and I opened the stall door so he could get out.

"I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about everything that happened last time I was here. The fever and infection. Wasn't my intention to put you through all that."

"Weren't your fault. If it'd been me, I'd a done the same thing in your place. Get outta Tucson before the dust settled. Just bad luck the shoulder got infected."

"Still, I didn't need to drag Bret straight here and collapse on your doorstep." Yes, in fact, that was exactly what I'd needed to do.

"Better here than someplace else. Just in case, ya know, you'd decided to stay dead."

"About that . . . "

Pappy left the stall and I closed the gate behind him. The cat stayed inside with the horse. Looked like they might be on the road to friendship.

"What about it?" There was a feeling of irritation in the question, but underneath that was something that I had more trouble identifying. Sadness, maybe.

"Sorry you had to go through that."

His expression softened, and so did the tone in his voice. "Don't apologize, Bartley. It couldn't be helped."

"Speakin' of couldn't be helped – are you still mad at Simon?"

Pappy leaned against the stall gate and looked bemused. "I was never mad at him, boy. Not happy with the way things went down between him an Bret. But that's in the past. Hard to be mad at somebody that saved your son's life."

"What about Bret?"

My question was greeted with a shake of the head. "He's made peace with it. Sorta. I don't think things'll ever be the same again between those two. That's a real shame."

"And Althea?" I'd barely gotten the question out of my mouth before a different voice answered it.

"Althea Petry? She's dead, far as I'm concerned. Long as I don't have to see her, she'll stay that way." I hadn't heard Bret come into the barn, or I wouldn't have asked.

"Didn't know you were there."

He slapped me on the undamaged shoulder and gave me a lopsided grin. "I'm sneaky that way. You out here tryin' to pump Pappy for information?"

Pappy stepped in and answered the question before I could. "We were talkin' about Simon." That wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't that far off the mark.

"My ex-friend Simon? Not much to say there. Glad he was here to take care of Bart. The rest? It's over an done with."

"Is it? " Pappy asked.

The smile left Bret's face and he stood up straight. "Yeah, Pa, it is."

Somethin' was goin' on here that I didn't quite understand. Tension, almost palpable, and it made no sense at all. What happened after I left for the Trinity River? And why was I just now finding out about it?

I stepped in between them, hoping to break the ill feeling that hung in the air like smoke. I brought up the only thing that I thought would distract them, and diffuse the situation. "I'm goin' up to see Momma. You two comin' with me?"

Even that didn't work entirely, but there was a distinct change in the atmosphere. "Yeah," Bret answered, "I'll come with you. Pappy?"

The world's most stubborn man returned. "No, thanks, son. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Sure, Pappy, tomorrow," I told his back as he walked through the barn and back outside. Then I turned back to my brother. "What was that?"

"Nothin'," Bret replied. "Let it go, please."

I didn't like the answer or the request, but I'd honor it, at least for now. I already had too much on my mind, and this didn't seem to be the time or place to push anything else. "Can you go now?" I questioned him, and he just nodded.

"Sure."

We rode up the hill in silence, both of Belle's sons lost in their own thoughts. Whatever happened between Bret and Pappy had something to do with Simon, or Althea, or both. And whatever it was had to be fixed, sooner rather than later. When we dismounted and tied the horses to the Desert Willow that stood guard over the graveyard, the last of the bright pink flowers that adorned its branches were in bloom. I watched them wave in the gentle breeze that blew up here, and I could feel Momma smile. I reached into my saddlebags for her Bible and remembered that the last time I'd seen it, the book rested in my brother's hand. "Have you got Momma's Bible?"

"Yeah, right here," and to my surprise, he gave it to me directly. I didn't know he had it in his hands when I asked.

"You brought it with you."

"Well, yeah. Thought you'd want it back. You do, don't you?"

"Yeah."

We walked over to the graves, removed our hats, and stood there for a few minutes, without saying anything. Finally, Bret's voice broke the silence. "The trees bloomin', Momma. It's gotten so big since you left us; you wouldn't hardly know it anymore. This was always your favorite time a year, right before summer fades for good into fall." He stopped for just a minute and looked down on the hill we'd climbed to get here. "Brought your youngest just to show you he's still with us; sorry for puttin' such a scare into ya."

What had big brother done now? "Did you come up and talk to her when I was sick?"

He hung his head just a bit lower. "Yeah . . . once . . . twice, actually . . . I thought . . . I thought I was gonna be visitin' you up here, too . . . and I had to talk to her about it. That's why I made peace with Simon . . . well, sort of peace. Bout the best we'll ever get back to. I kinda figured she wanted me to."

I answered him quietly, even though he hadn't asked a question. "I'm glad you did, Bret. Simon's a good doctor; look what he did for Pappy, and me. He didn't set out to fall in love with Althea, or her with him."

He walked away from me, and the graves; I guess he didn't want to say what he had to say in front of Momma. "It wasn't that it happened, Bart. It was the way it happened. Right under my very nose, like I wasn't even standin' there. And then they . . . they . . . I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

I thought Bret was over all of it – past it. I guess it was like him assumin' I was ever gonna be over Caroline. It ain't that you don't hurt anymore, it's just that you learn to live with the pain. It sounded like Bret was still strugglin' with that part of it. "It don't seem fair, does it?" I asked him.

"No. No, it don't, but life ain't fair. I guess that's a lesson I'm still learnin'. Anyway, I'm glad I can bring you with me, instead of havin' to come up here to talk to you."

"Not any happier than I am. I got no desire to be up here yet."

"Good. Remember that the next time you get shot."

I laughed, and we went back to spend a few more minutes with Momma.


	13. Out with the Old

Chapter 5 – Out with the Old

After Bret and I got back to the ranch I gave Noble some water and headed for Little Bend. I hadn't been to town for a while, and I was surprised to find that it had grown ever bigger. A new livery was built, along with, of all things, a Post Office. The hotel that was brand new just a few years ago had already been replaced by a newer, bigger hotel. There was even a social hall. In the middle of all this stood Maude's, bright and shiny as ever. Since I was going to see Simon Petry first, I rode on past Maude's, down towards the end of the street, where Simon's clinic stood. It had expanded dramatically, too, and a whole second building was added next door. Seems the town doctor was getting quite prosperous.

Simon had a waiting room with a secretary, an older lady I'd never seen before. When I told her I was Bart Maverick, her eyebrows shot up and she hurried off to tell Simon someone was waiting to see him. He came out of the backroom, shirt sleeves rolled up, wiping his hands on a towel, and he seemed happy to see me. We shook hands and he told me, "Come on in, Bart, I've got an office now. Mrs. Murphy, this is Bart Maverick, an old friend of mine. Bart, Mrs. Lydia Murphy, my right hand." I tipped my hat to Mrs. Murphy, who didn't look at all impressed until Simon told her, "Bart's the patient that died on me."

"Oh. Oh. Oh, my. Well, that was something, wasn't it? Happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Maverick."

"Bart, Mrs. Murphy. Not the first time I've survived when I wasn't supposed to, but the first time I've actually come back from the dead."

Mrs. Murphy smiled as if that was amusing, and I followed Simon into a small but cozy office. Behind his desk was a bookshelf that held a large framed photograph of him, Althea, and the baby. I pointed at it and finally asked, "Boy or girl?"

"Girl," Simon told me. "Elizabeth Althea Petry. She's six months old already."

"And you're happy?"

"Sublimely so. You might hate me for admitting that, but I'll not lie to you, Bart."

I shook my head. "Wrong Maverick. I'm happy for you, and for Althea. She wanted a husband and a family. She'd never have gotten that from Bret, and even if he doesn't know it, I do. But that's not what you wanted to see me about, is it?"

"No, it's not. You were gone so soon after your illness, I never got a chance to check up on you and see how you were doing. So how are you feeling? You certainly look better than the last time I saw you."

That caused me to chuckle. "No doubt I do, at that. I feel fine. No, I really feel fine. Two weeks of convalescing at the ranch, then four more weeks of doin' nothin' but fishin', sleepin' and readin'. After all that, how would you feel?"

"Probably the same way, but I didn't almost die. No, correct that. No almost about it."

"Well, I'm still here. Thanks to you."

Simon shook his head and looked chagrined. "Wish I could take credit for it, Bart. But I really had nothing to do with it."

"C'mon, Simon, I don't believe that."

"Believe it. You were gone. No heartbeat, no pulse. You weren't breathing. There was nothing I could do."

"Then why – "

"Damned if I know. Maybe it was Bret jostling you back to life. He gathered you up and refused to take 'he's gone' as an answer. Then I took a closer look, and you were breathing again. I don't know why, I'm just glad you did."

"That makes two of us. I'd of hated to explain to Momma why I was there with her instead of with my brother. So, what now?"

Simon hesitated for a few seconds before giving me an answer. "I'd like to check you over, make sure you're really alright."

"And then?"

"As long as everything's fine, then you can go on and do whatever Maude Donovan can talk you into doing."

"Okay. What are we waiting for?"

XXXXXXXX

Forty minutes later I had a clean bill of health from Doctor Petry, accompanied by a smile and a handshake from Simon. "I appreciate the words, Bart. And the sentiments. Althea will be happy to hear how you feel, too. Now, if we could just get Bret to understand . . . "

"Don't hold your breath for that, Simon. It ain't gonna happen anytime soon. If it ever does." We shook hands again and I left the clinic, feeling a bit more at peace about the situation with Simon and Althea. I'd told Simon the truth – I didn't know if Bret would ever be able to accept the way it all worked out. I couldn't say I blamed him for that – look at how I reacted in Tucson.

I untied Noble from the rail and walked him down to Maude's place. It was a little past five, but I didn't think she'd mind. Everything inside was about half the speed it would be moving at in another couple of hours, so it was reasonably quiet for now. There was a new bartender, but Doralice was sitting at a table drinking coffee, and I took off my hat and dropped it there. She looked up and smiled. "Bart. I was afraid you'd changed your mind."

The woman was just plain beautiful; there was no doubt about it. And her most striking feature was still those aqua colored eyes. Their intensity hadn't changed one bit from the first time I saw her, dirty and defiant in Mexico. That meeting, with her beaten and in chains, thinking I was there to bring her back to Texas to hang, stuck in my mind like it had happened just yesterday. I'd always had the feeling she wanted more from me than I'd been willing to give her, at least while we were in the land of the Federales, and I'd never been around much after we were back home. I could look at her now and see just her, and not how much she used to remind me of Caroline. I bent to kiss her cheek . . . she turned her head at the last moment, and the taste of her lips left little doubt in my mind that the spark was still there. "Sorry," she murmured, as if it had been an accident.

' _I'm not,'_ I thought, but I said nothing about the kiss. "I told you I'd be here. Simon wanted to check and make sure I was alright, and he took a little longer than I expected. Maude here yet?"

"Just got here a few minutes ago. We still on for supper? They've got a fine new dining room at the hotel and a great chef. Then I thought maybe we could go back to the house for coffee."

I took a long look at her. I didn't think coffee was the main thing on her mind, but going back to the house sounded like a good idea. It had been a while since I'd had any female attention, other than in my not quite rational state of mind, and I wanted to remember what it felt like to hold Doralice in my arms. Certainly a pleasant experience, to say the least. And who knows what might happen from there? Before that, however, there was the matter that Maude wanted to see me about.

"That sounds good. Office in the same place?"

"Yes, but it . . . "

I was already up and moving before Doralice could finish what she'd started to tell me. When I got to Maude's door I knocked and heard, "Come in." I would have been less surprised if I'd let her finish. The office, once furnished with dark, polished wood, big and bulky in appearance, had been redecorated. Gone were the overstuffed chairs covered in red that sat in front of the desk. Everything had been replaced with lighter toned, more feminine looking furniture. The portrait of Doralice that had once hung over Maude's desk was swapped for a flowery landscape of some kind, and all of the family pictures that resided on the office walls were gone. There were several smaller floral paintings in their place, all by the same artist as the one behind the desk.

"Bart! It's so good to see you. You look well. Fully recovered from your wounds, I assume?" Maude met me in front of the desk and kissed me on the cheek, gesturing to the now less than comfortable-looking chairs that replaced the big, luxurious ones.

"Fit as a fiddle, so says Simon Petry. Changed things up a bit, eh?"

She giggled, rather like a schoolgirl, and nodded. "That's right. You haven't been here since my daughter decided I had too masculine an office."

"Please tell me you still have the portrait," I almost begged her. It was far too magnificent to dispose of.

"I do. It's at home now, over the fireplace, where it belongs. What do you think of all the florals?"

"They're quite lovely. Who's the artist?"

"Doralice." She paused for a moment and watched the expression change on my face. "You weren't expecting that, were you?"

For once I hadn't kept a poker face. What couldn't these two women do? "No, I certainly wasn't."

"My daughter is multi-talented. You should know that by now."

I thought of how resourceful she'd been when I rescued her from a hangman's noose in Mexico. After I was shot while trying to escape the Federales, she'd managed to keep me alive with a raging fever and practically no food. "Yes, I certainly should. Well, I won't underestimate her again. How have you been?"

She sat back in her chair and sighed. "Oh, I'm alright. Older, of course. Certainly no wiser. How's your father? I don't get to see him as much as I used to. I miss him and Ben."

"Pappy is still Pappy. A little less belligerent these days, I've been told. Don't they come in anymore?"

"They do, just not as often. Maybe they've found a new place to play."

She didn't believe that any more than I did. "Why would they? I'm sure you've still got the best-looking girls in town." I was concerned; were their poker-playing days behind them? "But that's not what you asked me to come in about, was it?"

She sighed again, and I could see that whatever was bothering her was a sore point. "No, it's not. I've got a problem, and its name is Mildred. Mildred Doyle."


	14. Anticipation

Chapter 6 – Anticipation

"Doyle? Isn't that the name of the man that owns the tobacco shop next door?" I'd frequented the place on more than one occasion. That's right, Doralice said something about him dying. Guess I wasn't the only one trying to do that.

"It was. Fitz Doyle died about a month ago. His daughter Mildred owns the store now."

"Has she closed it? I didn't see anybody in there when I rode through town today."

"That's part of the problem," Maude explained. "Right before Fitz got sick he'd agreed to sell the store to me so that I could expand Maude's. We shook on the deal. When he took ill, another tobacco shop opened at the far end of town. Mildred doesn't want to honor the deal her father and I made, but because of the new store, she can't sell to anybody else. Every time I try to talk to her she brushes me off, says that Fitz would never sell to the likes of a saloon. But that's exactly what Fitz was gonna do. I've even raised what I'm willing to pay by twenty-five percent. She still won't sell. She's gonna sit there with no business and no income, and starve herself when she could be at home with a tidy little profit."

Maude had a real dilemma on her hands, but I still didn't see what she needed me for. "And you wanted to see me because?"

"Because she won't talk to me, or to Doralice. Says I couldn't possibly own this place all by myself, there must be a man behind the scenes. She wants to talk to him. You're the only him I could think of that might be able to persuade her to sell the place to me. I know it's asking a lot, but I'm desperate. If somebody else comes along and buys the building, my expansion plans are shot. You were so persuasive in Mexico, I thought you might be willing to work your magic again. I'd be glad to pay you to handle the sale for me. I'll even give Mildred more than the building is worth. Please, Bart? I'm at the end of my rope."

"What if I don't succeed?" I asked her, because this was certainly sounding like a lose-lose proposition.

"Oh, but I'm sure you will. You must. I can't have come this far just to be done in by one of my own kind. Female, I mean."

I considered it carefully; I understood why she had such faith in me. To an outsider, it seemed like I'd been highly successful in our last 'joint' venture. So successful that I almost got killed, and my brother and cousin had to come rescue us. But I also understood why Maude had come to me. I had at least been willing to try and save Doralice from the hangman's noose in Mexico when no one else would. How could I turn her mother down now?

"Alright, I'll try. Just remember I don't promise anything. See if you can set a meeting up for three o'clock tomorrow afternoon. At the store. I'll be here at two – we can go over your offer and just how high you're willing to go. Is Cristian still your attorney?" She was nodding even as I asked the question. Cristian de la Torres was a good man and an even better barrister. "Have him here, just in case I need him. Can you do that?"

"Of course, of course. Oh thank you, darlin', you are my real savior. I will be indebted to you forever."

"And Maude?"

"Yes, my knight in shining armor?"

She'd paid me handsomely for the rescue of Doralice, and when it was all said and done, I'd given every cent of it back to her. "This time I'm not givin' the money back."

XXXXXXXX

When I came out of Maude's office, Doralice took one look at my face and asked, "Are you gonna do it?"

"Of course," I told her. "Does anyone ever turn Maude down? Besides Mildred Doyle, that is." Doralice laughed, that same deep-throated, throw back your head and enjoy life sound that she made whenever something was genuinely funny to her. I'd missed that sound. "Are you ready to go to supper? I'm hungry."

"I am too," she answered, and I assume she meant for food. I offered her my arm, and we walked up the street to the new hotel; it certainly was a fancier establishment than the first one that was built and then torn down to make way for this one. The dining room was elegant and had its own wine list; I ordered a bottle of sweet red and two glasses. When it arrived I poured for each of us and raised my glass in a toast. "To the loveliest woman I ever rescued from hanging," which caused the lady I was with to start giggling.

Doralice countered with one of her own. "To the most handsome man to ever save me from the Federales."

She was right about the food – the chef had to be outstanding to cook a meal in a little Texas town that tasted this good. We dawdled over supper, catching each other up with stories of the things that had happened in our lives since we'd seen each other. When I poured the last of the wine into our glasses, her hand brushed mine, and there was a real jolt from the contact.

"Bart?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you coming back to the house with me?"

I downed what remained in my glass and set it back on the table, enveloping her hand with mine. There was a slight trembling in her fingers. "For coffee, you mean?"

"Uh . . . yes, for coffee."

"How late is Maude working?" I asked her.

"She closes tonight at four or five in the morning. Why?"

"Just curious. Are you ready?"

The look in her eyes told me she'd been ready for a long, long time. "Yes."

I stood and helped her with her seat, then paid the bill. It was a short walk to the Donovan house. Once again I offered my arm to the lady. "Shall we go?"

XXXXXXXX

I felt her fingertips tracing patterns on my chest before I opened my eyes. When I did so I was met by the cool gaze of those aqua blue eyes, and it took a minute to realize where I was. Then I leaned down and kissed her lips, and the same thought raced through my mind that I'd had before – why had I waited so long to do this? I could feel the curve of her mouth with my lips, and tasted the mixture of coffee and wine on her tongue. She was warm and soft in my arms, yet her hands were strong as they pushed around me. "Good?"

The aqua blue eyes blinked, and the sensuous, tender lips smiled. "The best," she murmured, and I stroked her hair for a few minutes while we lay in bed. We'd had our coffee, and numerous refills, until both of us were sated and close to exhaustion. Still, we kissed again and our desire was reborn. It was almost five in the morning when we both heard the front door open, and I knew it was time for this night to end. "We don't have to wait years to do this again, do we?" Doralice asked as she lay in bed and I got dressed.

"Not unless you want to. Is Maude gonna throw a . . . ?" I left the rest of the question hanging.

"She's not gonna say a thing, except maybe 'what took you so long?'"

"I don't have to live in fear of bein' horsewhipped by your momma, do I?"

She laughed as I pulled my boots on. The woman was even more beautiful without clothes than she was with them. "Not by my momma. What about your pappy?"

"When pigs fly. I'm comin' back at two o'clock for a meetin' with Maude and Cristian. You busy this evenin'?" I was like a drunkard that just took his last drink of the morning and was already in search of the next one. Did I love her? Sure, in the same way I'd always loved her. No more, no less. From the sound of things, she felt the same way. We were two adults who'd been broken numerous times and were now held together with rags and glue. We were fine alone, but when we got together . . .

"I'll be at Maude's waitin' for you." I bent down to kiss her goodbye for now, and she almost pulled me back into bed with her. I had no objections, but I had promised Lily Mae I'd be home for breakfast. I left her bedroom and closed the door behind me to find Maude sittin' in the kitchen drinking coffee.

"Have a good time?" she asked casually, as if she hadn't just seen me come out of her daughter's bedroom.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, and tipped my hat. Maude just picked up her cup and smiled.

"Don't forget, two o'clock in my office."

"I won't forget." And I walked out onto the porch, with the sun just breaking the horizon.

XXXXXXXX

There were no horses tied up in front of the house, which meant either no one had gone into town last night or they'd long since returned home. I dismounted and told Noble I'd be back shortly to take care of him, and almost fell over Melody as I walked in the front door. She looked at me and then turned her back and ran up the stairs, already jealous that I hadn't come home. I strode across the wooden floor, right into the kitchen and grabbed Lily Mae and spun her around before lighting at the table with a fresh cup of coffee – real coffee.

"Uh, oh. Somebody's in a good mood. A real good mood. And just what did you spend the night doin'?"

"Now, Lily, gentlemen don't kiss and tell. Don't you know that?"

"That only works when you're a gentleman," Pappy said, as he winked and smiled at me. "Doralice?"

"Now, Pappy . . . "

"Can't you tell from that God-awful grin on his face?" Bret asked.

"What did Maude want from you?" Ben asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.

So I explained her problem and my part in its (hopeful) resolution. "We're all comin' in to play poker tonight, so I'll check and make sure you're not in jail," Bret volunteered.

"And if I am?" I asked, already anticipating the answer I'd get.

"We'll wave 'hello'."

I ate as much food as my stomach could handle, took my empty dishes to the sink, and kissed Lily Mae on the cheek. "If I'm not up by one o'clock, would you wake me, please Lily?"

"That I can do, Mr. B. By the way, the cat's been fed. Your pa saw to it."

"Thanks, Lily, Pappy. Goodnight, all."

"That is a happy man," I heard Pappy say as I went back outside to take care of Noble. He deserved a good breakfast, too. In less than thirty minutes I was upstairs, all snug and warm in my bed, with Melody lying beside me. Didn't take her too long to get over her melancholy at my being out all night. I fell asleep almost immediately, with a smile on my lips and anticipation in my soul.


	15. Silent Partner

Chapter 7 – Silent Partner

I was at Maude's on time, it was Cristian that was late. He came rushing in about two-fifteen, apologizing the whole way. "Sorry Maude, Bart. Last minute client and she couldn't stop crying." We shook hands and I sat back down.

"I don't even know if we're gonna need you, Cristian, but I thought it might be wise, just in case," I told him, and he nodded.

"Erring on the side of caution is good." Spoken like a true attorney.

Maude once again explained the situation with Fitz and Mildred Doyle. Cristian listened attentively, nodding in the appropriate places, and when she was done he pulled some papers from his briefcase. "I brought some 'temporary' contracts that make it appear Bart is the silent partner in Maude's, and that he has been since the saloon was opened. Maude, if you'll sign here and here, that's good, and Bart you sign here. Don't date it, I'll do that. I can't think of anything else she might want to see, but I've brought a Promissory Note for the capital needed to get this place up and running, so again – Maude, you sign here, and Bart, you sign here."

When the signing was over and done with, Cristian sat back in the chair and looked my way. "You look good, Bart. Feeling better than the last time we talked, I assume?"

"A month on the river'll do that for ya, Cristian. You oughta try it some time."

"A month anywhere would do that for me. My clients won't let me, unfortunately. You headed next door now?"

"Yep, gotta go charm Mildred Doyle. Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck, handsome. You've got skill," Maude told me, and I laughed.

I'd tried to dress more like a businessman might, and less like a gambler. Doralice was out in the saloon proper, behind the bar pouring a drink, and she whistled at me. I waved at her and kept walking. When I arrived next door I finally got to meet Miss Mildred Doyle. She was an attractive girl, maybe twenty-five or six, and she was wearing way more clothing than most of the women I know wear. "Miss Doyle, I presume?" I removed my hat and extended my hand.

"Yes, I'm Miss Doyle."

"My name is Bart Maverick, Miss Doyle. Mrs. Donovan expressed your desire to meet me?"

She took my hand and shook it firmly. "Mr. Maverick. You're the person that Mrs. Donovan insisted didn't exist."

"That's the way we prefer to keep it, Miss Doyle."

She looked at me quizzically. "And why is that, Mr. Maverick?"

"I have family here, Miss Doyle. They don't need to be bothered about what goes on at Maude's."

She seemed to be the practical sort, and that explanation appeared to make sense to her. "Oh. I see. And where are you from originally, Mr. Maverick?"

I have no idea why that mattered to her, but she asked, so . . .

"Right here, Miss Doyle. I was born and raised in Little Bend. My father and uncle still live here."

"Beauregard Maverick? He's your father?"

"Yes, he is. And Bentley is my uncle." Uh-oh. Had I just opened a can of worms?

"I know Beauregard. A fine old gentleman. Does he know about you and your backing of Maude Donovan?"

"No, he doesn't. And I want it kept that way, please. It's in case . . . in case something happens to me. My father and uncle would be taken care of." It was the only way I could think of to keep her quiet. I just hope it worked.

Mildred Doyle stood there looking at me for a minute before she nodded her head. "Can you prove it?"

"What, that I loaned Maude money? I have the original contracts right here." With that I showed her the paperwork that Cristian had just prepared. She looked everything over thoroughly. Good thing Maude's attorney knows what he's doing. When she'd finished, she handed it all back to me and smiled. Finally.

"Tell Mrs. Donovan that if she'll come by at her convenience, I will be happy to conclude our business in her favor. And thank you, Mr. Maverick, for being willing to show this to me." She handed me back the paperwork, and I tipped my hat to her.

"Thank you, Miss Doyle. I wish you well in your future endeavors."

Back to Maude's I went. Doralice winked at me this time. I gave the wink right back to her and marched straight into Maude's office. Cristian and Maude looked up hopefully. "Go see her, Maude. She's ready to sell it to you."

She came flying around the desk and hugged me, then followed it with a big, "I can't thank you enough!" and a kiss, this time on the cheek. I handed the falsified documents back to Cristian.

"Put these someplace safe until this is all over," I told him.

"Good idea, just in case we need them again. Maude, I have to get back to the office. How about dinner later this week?"

Maude turned slightly pink-cheeked. "One night when Joseph's workin' the bar, Cristian."

"Joseph? But what about Doralice?" The attorney looked at Maude, then at me, then back to Maude. "Oh. Oh, now I get it. Certainly, that's fine. Just let me know when." We shook hands and Cristian left.

"Subtle, Maude," I told her.

"Well, Cristian wouldn't take the hint." She was still a shade of pink.

"Is that new? You and Cristian?"

"Fairly."

"You picked a good man this time."

"Bout time, don't you think? It doesn't matter, that he's younger than me?" She was sincerely asking for my opinion.

"Can't be that much younger than you. And if he is, so what? Cousin Beau's wife Georgia was older than him. Didn't make a bit of difference. By the way, Pappy and Ben and Bret are comin' to town tonight, so expect company later."

"Oh, good," she grinned. "Can't wait to see them."

"This Maverick has a previous engagement. With your daughter."

"Get outta here, then, will ya? Thanks again for the assist – I'll make you right proud, silent partner."

"Don't spread that around, please? One of them three might believe it."

I walked back out front just as Doralice was about to pour me a cup of coffee. I reached over and stopped her. "I like the coffee better at your house," I told her, and she gave me a big smile.

"Good. Let's go make a pot of it, shall we?"

I nodded and grinned back at her. "Now there's a smart woman. Got anything to eat at your house?"


	16. It Ain't Saturday

Chapter 8 – It Ain't Saturday

It was almost one o'clock in the morning when Doralice and I walked back into Maude's; her arm through mine. She wanted to send Maude home early, and I wanted to see my family. Besides, two straight days with that woman had me in desperate need of some real coffee and after that, some real sleep.

Uncle Ben was standing at the bar drinking a glass of something that looked suspiciously like whiskey and talking to Sweet Alice, one of Maude's girls. Unlike some of the saloons, Maude's ladies were there strictly as saloon girls, not whores. What they did on their own time was their own business, but Maude had made it clear from the start that she wasn't running a brothel. Even though I knew Uncle Ben had a drink now and then, it was still a jolt to actually come face to face with it. Then again, I never did see Ben take a swallow; he just tended to hold the glass.

Bret was sitting in on a game, and he gave me a big smile when he saw me walk in with Doralice on my arm. From the stack of money in front of him, I'd say he was having a splendid night. I recognized the smile; it was the _'whew, we dodged a bullet'_ look. Which means he thought that my involvement with Doralice would prevent my going to Las Cruces. He, of course, was wrong.

Pappy was nowhere in sight, but the door to Maude's office was closed. When that happened I knew better than to go in there. Doralice was paying no attention, and she walked right on in. I heard the gasp and saw her come tearing back out, slamming the door behind her. I was laughing so hard that I almost let her get past me as she tried to run outside. "Pappy?" I asked, and she nodded, but the unsettled look in her eyes remained.

"Maude . . . Maude . . . and your father . . ."

I suppressed the chuckle that was threatening to burst forth. "He's a Maverick, she's a Donovan. Seems inevitable."

She nodded again but continued to stare at me. "Still . . . "

I pulled her close to me. "Next time, Doralice . . . "

"Yes?"

"Knock."

That's when she hit me. And we both burst out laughing.

XXXXXXXX

Bret, in spite of his winning ways, was ready to go home before Pappy and Uncle Ben, so we rode back to the ranch together. We hadn't gone far when he asked me, "So – you and Doralice, huh?"

"Yep."

"Finally."

"What does that mean?"

"You two been dancin' around each other for quite a while now. Bout time you did somethin' about it."

"Doesn't change my plans, Bret."

"What plans are those, Bart?"

I pulled Noble to a halt and glared at him. "My travel plans. You know, the ones you don't like?"

He sighed, and I gave Noble his head again. He mumbled something that I couldn't hear. "What was that?" I asked.

"You still goin' to Las Cruces?"

"You know I am."

His turn to stop Blackthorn. "Why?"

"Because I need to. Used to be I'd give you a reason like that, you wouldn't argue. Why is this different?"

"Cause there's no excuse for you to go there. You ain't been there in years. You don't know anybody in town. You got a girl in Little Bend. IT WASN'T REAL, BART."

"It's the middle of the night, Bret. You don't need to shout."

He nodded his head and the horse started walking again. "You're right, it is. Sorry. But it still wasn't real."

"I know that."

"Then why?"

"Because I'm not gonna have any peace until I do, that's why. I've already told you, you don't have to go."

"Then I won't."

"Alright." I wasn't gonna argue with him, and I wasn't gonna beg him. "We've had this conversation before. I don't wanna keep talkin' about the same thing. So I'm not gonna." I urged Noble into a trot and left Bret behind. He didn't try to catch up with me. I wasn't mad at him; I was just tired of arguing about the same thing.

XXXXXXXX

I'd gone straight to bed when I got home and was hungry when I woke up in mid-afternoon; that's probably why I was awake. I wandered down to see Lily Mae in the kitchen and was startled to find Pappy sitting at the table talking to Lily.

"What are you doin' up so early in the day?" I was waiting for a typical Beauregard reply but I didn't get one.

"I'm not tired. Sit down, son. Lily, get the boy somethin' to eat, would you please?"

Uh-oh. I always got worried when Pappy was over-solicitous of my welfare. "What's wrong, Pappy?"

"There's nothin' wrong, Bartley. Can't I just want to be sure you're fed?"

I shook my head. "No. Although I do appreciate it. Now, why are you really up this early in the day?"

Pappy picked up his half-empty cup and stared down into it for a minute. "Last night."

"What about last night?" It appeared this was gonna be one of those times when I literally had to pull it out of Pappy. So I sat and waited until he was ready to talk. While I was waiting Lily put a plate of food in front of me, and I was more than willing to eat at least some of it. There'd been a lot going on the past two days, but not much of it involved eating. Actual food, I mean.

"It's not what Doralice thought."

"How do you know what she thought?"

"I heard her, Bartley. She was . . . shocked, startled, dismayed . . . and confused. No doubt thinking of her mother and the attorney."

"Cristian?"

Pappy nodded. "That's the one. I know Maude's started seein' him. She asked me about it and I told her it was a good idea."

That's not what I was expecting to hear. "You encouraged it?"

"I encouraged it. Maude needs a man on a regular basis. It ain't me. We were sayin' goodbye, is all."

"Saying goodbye?"

"That's right. Doesn't mean I won't see her, an talk to her, an be her friend. Just not that kind of friend. Anymore."

I pushed my plate away; I'd eaten almost two-thirds of what Lily gave me. For once she looked happy. "I didn't know you ever were that kind of friend."

He chuckled just a little. "There's a lotta things you don't know, boy. Ain't there, Lily Mae?"

My gaze shifted from Pappy to Lily Mae, and she blushed. "Not those kinda things," my long-time defender said quickly.

"So, Pappy, you and Maude . . . how long?"

"You're my son, but that ain't none a your business. What if I asked you about Doralice?"

"I'd give you an answer, Pappy." I expected that would aggravate him, but in actuality, it didn't.

"Alright. You and Doralice. How long?"

"Two days."

"Two days? Damn fool. Shoulda been a lot longer than that."

I just shrugged. "Better late than never, Pappy."

"If you say so."

Lily started to leave the room and Pappy called after her, "Lily Mae, where you goin'?"

"I got work to do, Mr. Beauregard. Can I trust the two of ya not to bite each other?"

"Yes, ma'am," Pappy grinned. Soon as she was gone he turned to me. "You got somethin' to tell me, boy?"

Bret. It ain't Saturday yet, big brother.


	17. Stay Away from my Brother

Chapter 9 – Stay Away From My Brother

Trust my brother to make a decision for me, when I'd already made the decision for myself.

"When I leave here, Pappy, I'm headed for New Mexico."

There was a full minute of silence before he asked, "Las Cruces?"

"Yes, sir."

I thought he muttered _"damn"_ under his breath, but I'm not certain. "I was hopin' your brother had it wrong."

"He didn't." I paused to let that sink in, then, "I was gonna tell you, Pappy, just not today. Sometimes my brother acts like I'm still five years old."

"Sometimes your brother acts like he's five years old. He tends to forget who's the father and who's the son."

Feeling that Bret had a lecture coming in his future, I tried to smooth it over. "He's tryin' to look out for me, Pappy. Even I understand that. He's been doin' it his whole life."

"You have a father. You don't need two of 'em." The words were strong, but the tone of his voice was easy, relaxed. Enough for me to know that he wasn't angry or upset with big brother. Just mildly irritated. "Never mind that. Explain this trip to Las Cruces to me. If you can."

"Bret told you the whole story? All the parts you didn't hear for yourself?"

"I believe so."

"So you know how complicated things got."

He gave me a look that I couldn't quite define. "You were gettin' ready to stay there and marry the girl. I wonder if that's when . . . when you tried to quit on us?"

"I don't know, Pa. I've wondered that myself. But I didn't. I left her, instead. I gotta know . . . I gotta know what's real. I gotta know if she's real."

"Even after Doralice?"

That was a difficult question, with a complicated answer. "Doralice is special, Pappy, just like Maude. But Doralice ain't my Isabelle Grayson. And she never will be. Understand?"

His voice, when he finally answered me, was soft and ragged. "More than you know, son. More than you know."

We stayed in the kitchen for the next few minutes, and he never said or asked me anything else. When he got up and went to the front door, then out onto the porch, I followed him. He sat in one of the rocking chairs, and I sat down next to him. He pulled out two cigars and almost absentmindedly lit both, then handed one to me. A big difference from the man that discouraged my smoking when I was thirteen or fourteen. Time changes everything, doesn't it?

We sat there for a long time, both of us thinking and rocking, content to be together with no questions asked and no answers given. We shared something that not even Bret could understand, and that was the permanent loss of the woman we loved. I wasn't sure if Caroline had been my Isabelle, either; but maybe she was as close as I'll ever come. I like to think Pappy was pondering just that possibility as he sat there and smoked, because when he got to the end of the cigar he looked my way and quietly told me, "Maybe it's foolish, son, but I understand. Go on and do what you gotta do, and just be careful doin' it. I don't ever again wanna sit by your bedside while you die."

Most of the time, none of the Mavericks are real big on hugs or handshakes. But I rested my hand on his arm, and when he turned his head to look at me, I just said, "Thanks, Pa."

XXXXXXXX

I wandered on back to bed for a spell. Not that I intended to do anymore sleepin', I just wanted to lie down and ponder for a while. What was it exactly that was pushing me to New Mexico? Was it just the desire to know how much of my idyllic town was real? Or was it the girl, Evelyn Sunday? Or something even simpler than that, just the Maverick wanderlust at work, and Las Cruces had given it a place to begin again?

Before long I had a purring fur ball lying next to me, and I was petting her without even thinking. I'd been on the bed for a few minutes when somebody knocked at my door, softly, so that if I'd been sleeping I wouldn't have heard them. I got up and opened the door and found the last person I expected standing there, Lily Mae. "Can I come in, Mr. B?" she asked, and I opened the door wide.

"Of course, Lily. You're always welcome." She sat on the chair, and I sat back down on the bed. She had something to say, that much was clear. She also seemed to be having a hard time saying it.

"Bart – "

That sounded strange, coming from Lily. She almost always called me Mr. B. "What is it, Lily Mae?"

"He was really torn up when you . . . when you died."

I nodded. "I know."

"No, that's just it. You don't know. Nobody knows for sure but me. I saw his eyes, Bart. They looked the same way they did the night he was gonna . . . you know. They looked dead."

"I didn't . . . I didn't know."

She reached over and grabbed my hand. "Of course you didn't. How could you? Ben's the only one that saw him for a moment, besides me. He knew that look, too, and he knew what it meant. If you hadn't started breathin' again . . . but you did. And praise God, your Pappy is alright, and you are, too. He told me where you're goin' when you leave here, and you gotta be careful. He's scared you ain't gonna come back. And if you don't come back . . . "

I squeezed her hand, ever so gently. "I'll come back, Lily. I promise you I'll come back."

"You takin' your brother with you?"

She wasn't gonna be happy with my answer. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't wanna go."

"Ain't no good reason for him not to."

"That's not true, Lily Mae, and you know it. Not wantin' to do somethin' is too a good reason not to do it. And I'd never ask him to do somethin' he don't wanna do."

She started to get up but I held onto her hand. "Let me go, darn it, Mr. B. I'm gonna get his butt up outta bed and make sure he goes with you."

"No, Lily. Leave him be. He's got a life, too, and he's put enough of it on hold for me, too many times. Besides, I'm not leavin' just yet. Thought maybe I'd stay here a few extra days. There's somebody I gotta see before I leave. More than once, if I can."

"Doralice?" She grinned at me, back to bein' the mother hen she always was.

"Yes, Doralice. Don't know what I been waitin' for all this time, but I wanna spend some time with her before I go." I smiled back at Lily Mae and finally let go of her hand. "Matter of fact, I think it's time to shave and head into town. See what the lady in question is doin' for dinner."

I heard 'Brrrrrrruuuppp' and glanced at the door. Melody was sitting patiently, waiting to get out. I got up to do just that and she ran off down the hall, headed towards Pappy's room. Females. Lily Mae joined me at the door before walking out into the same hall, following the path Melody had taken. "You just remember what I told you and take care of yourself."

"Yes, ma'am. And you remember what I said, and stay away from my brother."


	18. Little Children

Chapter 10 – Little Children

Of course, all I could do was ask Lily Mae to leave Bret alone, and not try to force or intimidate him into accompanying me to Las Cruces. Whether she actually listened to me or not was strictly up to her. I thought about that and a lot of other things that were spinning around in my head on the ride into town. Pappy was the biggest concern; I'd never heard him sound so . . . so emotional before. And paternal. I was feeling once again that I'd misjudged my father all these years.

Now, don't take that the wrong way. I know that Pappy loves both me and Bret; that's a point I've never really doubted. But for many years I mistakenly believed that his natural inclination was to lean my brother's way – Bret looks like him, sounds like him, and tends to think like him. With a little less larceny in his soul than Pappy.

I got the earliest indication that I was wrong when Pappy told me the real story of him and Momma, from their first meeting to right after her death. See, Momma had very distinctive brown eyes – dancing eyes, Pappy always called them. Bret's eyes are black as night, just like Pappy's, but mine are the same color as Momma's. I've been told by people who knew her that looking into my eyes is like seeing Belle Maverick all over again. And in a way, Pappy is still with us is because of those eyes – if he'd been left to his own devices, Bret and I would have been orphaned not too long after we lost her. Pappy told me himself that what put an end to those thoughts had something to do with seeing Momma every time he looked me in the face.

That being said, I still believed that if there was a 'golden' child between the two of us, it was my older brother. Except for one incident the summer Bret was fifteen, you couldn't ask for a better offspring. Everything Bret did right, I did wrong. He never broke any part of his body growing up; I swear every bone I have has been patched back together a time or two. He was healthy as a horse, I caught everything that went around. Bret never stepped over the line with the law; I almost attempted a saloon robbery with 'friends' when I was fifteen. It seemed only natural to think that a father would love his obedient son more than the younger miscreant he was raising.

But somehow over the years my feelings changed. Maybe it was Pappy sitting at my bedside for days on end when I took a bullet meant for my brother in Laredo. Maybe it was his perception of the way I'd given Bret a reason to keep going after the whole debacle with Simon Petry and Althea Taylor. Or any of a dozen or more incidents that had happened both before and after.

The way he reacted when I 'died' – according to everyone, for those few minutes I was gone, it appeared his very life was over – maybe that helped to convince me that I was no less important than my 'perfect' brother. So our talk earlier today had fixed the notion in my head that maybe I'd stick around for a few extra days, just to spend some time with Pappy – and Doralice. I was still going to Las Cruces, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that everything that happened there was all caused by the fever my body was trying to fight. And to find out if Evelyn Sunday really existed in some way, shape or form.

All this was turning over in my head as I rode into Little Bend, and I still arrived with a smile on my face. There was only one reason for that, and her name was Doralice.

I knew there was a connection between us the first time I saw her after we made it back alive from Mexico. It was a quick visit to town to get some supplies that I was gonna need on the cattle drive me and Bret were running for Althea Taylor, and I stopped by Maude's just to say hello. Doralice was back in Maude's office and she walked outside with me after I'd seen her mother. I remember the conversation almost word-for-word.

"I never did get to really thank you," Doralice told me as we stood on the sidewalk. She had given me a bone-rattling kiss in Maude's the day we returned, which I recalled quite distinctly. I've never been one to question a lady's memory when it comes to kisses, however, and if Miss Donovan the younger wanted another go at it I was more than willing to oblige. Right out in the open, in front of God and everybody, the beautiful daughter of Maude Donovan, saloon owner, kissed the ne'er-do-well youngest son of Little Bend's pre-eminent gambler. Boy, did she. It . . . was . . . marvelous.

Fate seemed to conspire against us, and every time I thought about that kiss and continuing forward, something got in the way. So here we were, all this time later, finally getting around to doing what we should have done a long time ago. Still, maybe I needed all the other failed liaisons to appreciate the intensity of this one.

It was an awful lot to be thinking about at one time, especially for a head generally filled with nothing more challenging than when the last time was I'd won a poker game against someone I wasn't related to. I walked into Maude's considering I just might play some if Doralice was tending bar tonight. She was, indeed, at this moment, but only until Maude returned from the bank.

"How about dinner later?" I made the mistake of asking, and her eyes lit up. "No, really dinner," I rushed to clarify.

"Coffee later at home?"

I tipped my hat to her. The woman had a healthy appetite, and I was enjoying the hell out of it. "That sounds like a fine idea. I'm gonna play some poker for a while," I told her while moving to take a chair that had just opened up in the only game currently underway. "Mind if I join you, gentlemen?"

Two hours later I was up almost three hundred dollars, and Doralice was ready to leave. I picked up my winnings, grabbed hold of my girl, and took her back up the street to the Palace Hotel, where we ate another excellent meal. This time it was steak prepared as skillfully as the chateaubriand Bret and I had tasted in Tucson. From there it was back to the Donovan house for coffee, real coffee, and dessert.

I was lying in bed, with the beauty in my arms, when I finally brought up the subject of my trip to Las Cruces. "I'm going to New Mexico next week," I whispered into her hair, wondering what kind of a reaction I'd get.

"Poker?" she asked me.

"Sort of. Some personal business I need to get settled. Can we . . . spend time together before I go?"

She was back to tracing patterns on my chest. I expected it to tickle, but somehow it didn't. I pulled her as close as I could get her and kissed her on the mouth. Again, that taste of sweet red wine mixed with pungent, almost bitter coffee. "As much as you want," she whispered into my shoulder.

Maybe this wouldn't last forever, but I wanted as much of it as I could get while it did. "When do you have to work for Maude?"

"Tomorrow night. Will you come in . . . ?"

"And play poker while you're there? Sure. I'll get us a room at the Palace, and we won't have to disturb Maude after you close up. Alright with you?" Now it was my turn to trace patterns on her beautiful, naked back, and she wasn't any more ticklish than I was. But she sure was a lot softer.

She laughed quietly and raised her head to look at me. "Are you real?"

"No, I'm just a poor old Texas gambler, who's trying to understand," pause for a kiss, "why it took so long," pause for another kiss, "to get here." I would have said more, but I was a little busy kissing her. The more time I spent with her, the less important going to Las Cruces seemed to become. If we stayed here like this much longer, I wouldn't care if I ever left Little Bend. Or this house. Or the bed, as long as she was in it with me.

Neither of us heard Maude come home; we were both sound asleep. Neither of us saw the sun come up; we were wrapped in a dizzying haze of desire. But we both hurried out of bed and got dressed when Maude tapped lightly on the door and called, "If there's anybody alive in there, breakfast is on the table."

XXXXXXXX

Everybody was in their room asleep but big brother when I got home. It took me a while to get into the house; I have to admit to neglecting Noble recently, and I took the time to make up for it. I found Bret sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee when I finally did get inside. If I'd known he was waiting for me I might have made it in there a bit faster. Then again, I might not have.

"Well, aren't we a little late gettin' in? Or is it a little early?" he asked as I poured coffee and refilled his cup.

"Am I keepin' you up?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, you are. What did you say to Lily Mae?"

Oh dear. I was right, Lily had gone ahead and talked to Bret even though I'd asked her not to. "I just answered her question and told her the truth. AND I told her not to bother you about it. "

He shook his head while keepin' an eye on me. "Oh, she hasn't bothered me about it. She hasn't talked to me about it. She hasn't talked to me at all. Even when I ask her a question. Is she ever gonna speak to me again?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, which I'm sure didn't sit well with Bret. "I don't know, Bret. You know the only one with any influence over Lily Mae is . . . "

"You," Bret finished. "So now what do I do?"

"Where is she?"

"Out with the chickens."

I sighed. I really wanted to go to bed and go back to sleep. Like I said before, being with Doralice is exciting, thrilling, stimulating, and exhausting. "I'll go talk to her."

"Thank you."

My turn. Since we were airing the dirty laundry, I wanted a chance to get my complaint out in the open. "What day is this?"

"Friday. Why?"

"When did I tell you I would talk to Pappy?"

"That's different."

"No," I countered, "it's not." Before he could continue the argument I went out the back door and around to the chicken coop. Lily Mae was discoursing with the hens. No wonder I talk to a horse and a cat.

"Lily Mae, are you refusin' to talk to my brother?"

"No, Mr. B., I'm not. I simply have nothin' to say to him." Oh good gosh. I swear, this was just a house with a bunch of grown-up children livin' in it.

"Please answer him when he asks you a question. Please."

"Alright. Yes. Just because you asked me."

"Thank you. I'm goin' to bed. Don't wake me."

"Good. You look like you need some sleep."

"I do," I grinned. "Oh, boy, I do."


	19. Slightly Wounded

Chapter 11 – Slightly Wounded

When I woke up and got out of bed, it was almost evening. I wandered downstairs and found Mavericks slowly straggling in to gather at the supper table and eat another of Lily Mae's meals. From the sounds that met my ears, it appeared that Lily Mae was once again speaking to my brother.

"So that's the way you think it is, huh?" Lily may have sounded irritated, but at least she was talking.

"I do. Yes, I do." Bret's reply to I don't know what exactly.

"Now Lily, cut the boy some slack." That was Uncle Ben, pleading as I came around the corner. All three of them shut up the moment they saw me.

"Well, isn't this a cheery group," I commented as I took my seat at the table. Pappy was right behind me.

"Haven't you people ever heard of being quiet when you argue?" As usual, he was able to nip the argument in the bud with just a question.

"What's all the disagreement about, anyway?" This was my next query. I got no answers, which meant the talk had been about me. Pappy changed the subject, sort of.

"When are you leavin', son?"

I took the plate Lily handed me, with too much food on it as usual, and gave him an answer. "I'm stayin' another week." Bret wore a surprised look. _'See what happens when you don't talk to me?'_ I thought.

"You are?"

"Yep."

"Got him a lady friend," Pappy assumed correctly.

"Doralice?" was Uncle Ben's next question.

"Yep."

I saw that sly grin on Bret's face again, but as soon as he knew I was watching him it was gone. "You goin' to town tonight?" he asked.

"I am, soon as I'm done eatin'."

"Ride in with you?"

"Don't see why not."

Ben and Pappy started talking about something that had happened over at the LB Bar, and I paid no more attention. I was too busy thinking about a particular aquamarine-eyed blonde.

XXXXXXXX

Bret and I had ridden about halfway into Little Bend before he brought up the subject of Las Cruces. "How long do you figure on bein' there? New Mexico, I mean."

I knew exactly what he meant. "As long as it takes."

"As long as it takes for what?"

"I don't know. As long as it takes until I'm satisfied, I guess."

"Satisfied about what? The girl?"

Sometimes I wondered if he asked me questions he already knew the answers to just to aggravate me. Then again, maybe he was just tryin' to find out if I'd changed my mind about anything. "That, among other things."

"And what about the one you got in town?"

"Doralice? She knows I'm goin'. She's fine."

"Yeah, but does she know why you're goin'?"

"No, Bret, why don't you tell her? I'm sure she's just dyin' to know, since she hasn't asked me." There was silence for a few minutes as the horses walked along next to each other. All I heard was the cicadas, and an occasional bullfrog, and the sound of the horses breath blowing out their nostrils. "Sorry." My answer had sounded angry, and I knew it.

Thank goodness, the next time something was said it wasn't about the trip. "You played any poker in town since we got back?"

"Yeah, the other afternoon at Maude's. I'm playin' tonight; Doralice is workin' the bar. You comin' to Maude's?"

"Thought I might, if you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?"

So we seemed to have settled our differences, or at least put them to rest for a while, and we finished the ride in. We were talking about poker games (of course) by the time we got to Little Bend.

We walked into Maude's together but the place was packed, as it usually was when Doralice was pouring drinks, and it took me a bit to get to the bar. There was a big smile on her face by the time she saw me and it was only a minute or two before she poured me a cup of coffee. Then before we had a chance to say much of anything, what looked like a whole herd of cowboys came in and she was busy again.

I drank my coffee and headed outside for a smoke and to get us a room for the night at the Palace. Both of those things accomplished, I returned to Maude's and found that the new bartender had joined Doralice in taking care of the clientele. The ruckus had settled down a bit, and she was finally able to introduce us; the man's name was Jesse, and he seemed like a nice enough fellow. We got to talk for a few minutes while Doralice retrieved a bottle of Maude's brandy from her office. Jesse worked in Laredo a while back and knew all about the trouble we'd had there posing as the Radson brothers. He seemed tickled to meet me; and offered that the scheme of the secessionists to turn Texas back into an independent republic was ludicrous, at best. Of course, once Doralice got a nibble of the story she wanted to hear the whole thing, and I told her most of the difficulties we'd run into just because we were brothers and fitted somebody else's description. I omitted the part about the bullet in the chest that almost killed me.

"Does trouble always find you?" she asked me, laughing just a bit.

"Seems that way, doesn't it?" was the best reply I could give her.

I didn't know just how true that was going to be before this night was over.

XXXXXXXX

It was several hours later when things started to get out-of-hand. Maude's was busy, especially for a Friday night, and Doralice had spent most of the evening behind the bar with Jesse. Bret was still playing at the same table he'd originally sat down at, and I'd joined another table quite a while ago. Uncle Ben and Pappy hadn't been seen, and after the discussion I heard them having earlier I'd wager they were at the LB Bar, especially since they knew Maude wasn't working tonight.

I was in the middle of a hand that didn't require a lot of concentration when the protests from one of the men playing at Bret's table got loud enough to be heard over the normal racket. " . . . ever lose?" was the first thing I heard, and I knew it was directed at my brother. How did I know it was aimed at Bret? He was sitting with his back to me, but I could see quite a stack of money and chips in front of him. Besides, that kind of question is always aimed at the professional at the table, and Bret was it. My brother said something back in a quiet, friendly voice, but the cowboy didn't like the words, or the tone, or the way it was said, or something.

"You been cheatin' all night," came back from across the table, and the words gave me pause. Usually words that sounded like that preceded something ugly happening, and my bones were telling me it was coming if things didn't change rapidly.

Joe Ellsworth, the relatively new barber, spoke up in Bret's defense. "Mavericks don't cheat, ya fool, and if you'd been in this town longer than five minutes you'd know that." The whole table chuckled, and the cowboy didn't like that reaction.

"Well, I say he's been cheatin'," the cowboy shot back.

Bret's reply was still quiet, but not quite so friendly. "Son, did it ever occur to you that maybe you're just a bad poker player?" Pause for effect. "I don't cheat."

The cowboy was directly across from Bret, facing me. Something caught my eye, and I saw his hand move towards his gun under the table long before Bret ever would have seen it. If I'd been a little faster I could have caught him before he pulled it out and fired, but neither of the Maverick boys is real quick on the draw. His aim was off and the bullet went somewhere other than into my brother, and I had the drop on him by the time he got ready to shoot again.

"Don't do it, friend," I growled at him, but he was beyond listening to reason and fired just as I did. I hit him in the hand and his bullet went awry, taking a once in a lifetime trajectory towards the bar. It caught Doralice across the forehead, and she went down in a heap. I was out of my chair and over the bar before anybody else could move, and I had her in my arms in a second. It was nothing more than a scratch; a minor wound at best, but she'd probably end up with a small scar. In the meantime, something needed to get my heart started again, because it had stopped dead in its tracks when I saw her go down. "Get Simon Petry," I yelled, followed quickly by, "and somebody grab the idiot that did this."

I picked her up gently and carried her back to her mother's office. She felt so light and fragile, and it was a good thing I could see she wasn't badly hurt. There was a racket in the saloon and I assumed the cowboy had been detained by someone; mainly because he was trying to kill my brother, and had just shot what Pappy had earlier in the evening called my 'lady friend.' When I looked up Bret was striding into the room. "She alright?" he asked, obviously unhappy about the whole turn of events.

"She will be," I replied, and in just another minute Simon was there with his bag. "How'd you get here so quick?"

"Just got back from delivering a baby," he told me. "The cretin they're dragging off . . . ?"

"Yes," I answered, knowing what the rest of his question was. "It's a flesh wound."

"Thank you, Doctor Maverick," Simon laughed, and then, "Yes, it is. Anybody else hit?"

"The what-did-you-call-him? Cretin? I shot him, in the hand."

"Good, then he'll wait," Petry replied. "You boys winning again?"

Bret finally spoke up. "I was, Simon. The cowboy accused me of cheatin' an drew on me. Bart saved me from a bullet."

"It's not bad enough I have to keep patching the two of you up, now the women of this town aren't safe, either?" I knew how Simon had meant the question, but he hadn't seen the torment in my eyes until I looked up at him. "Oops, a little too close to home?"

Maude had a satin chaise in her office and that's where I had set Doralice down, with her head in my lap. She let out a soft moan as Petry worked on her wound and was just starting to come around as Simon finished with the bandage. I love lookin' in her eyes, but I'd never been quite so happy to see that aquamarine color as I was when they fluttered open and looked up at me. "Sorry I didn't yell _'_ Duck'!" I told her once I was sure she could hear me.

She reached up a hand to touch my face and whispered, "What . . . happened?"

"Some drover tried to shoot Bret, and you got caught instead," I told her. She shut her eyes but a slight smile creased her face, then slid right on off.

"You boys sure are a lot of trouble, aren't you?" Again, her question was whispered.

"You would be safer with a banker," I informed her, and that tiny smile returned.

"Bet he wouldn't be near as much fun."

"Miss Donovan, it's Simon Petry. Could you open your eyes for me?"

They opened then, and stayed open, but there was a bit of dismay evident there. "I needed a doctor? Did I faint?"

"You were shot, Doralice. Wounded, slightly. How's your head feel?"

"Like a horse kicked me."

Simon nodded. "That's about right. You'll be fine in a day or two. Try to take it easy until then. Bart, you know what to watch for."

"Thanks, Simon." He got up and left, looking exhausted, as usual. He and Bret never even looked at each other as Simon passed by.

"Bart."

"Yes, Brother Bret?"

"Thanks."

"Sorry I'm slow. Shoulda got him before he got the second round off."

A little chuckle issued forth. "Saved me from gettin' shot. You're not slow at all."

"Who? What?" Doralice murmured.

"Never you mind, honey, I'll explain it all later. Just go to sleep." And that's just what she did.


	20. A Colt is Not a Horse

Chapter 12 – A Colt is Not a Horse

I picked Doralice up and carried her to Maude's house. Bret followed behind after making sure that Jesse could handle the bar until somebody got back to help him.

Maude and Cristian were there, drinking brandy in the front room, and Maude jumped up and ran when Bret opened the door and I carried Doralice in. She followed us into the bedroom; Bret explained the events to Maude while she hovered over her daughter. I remained on the far side of the bed; experience told me to stay away from a mother tending to a sick or injured child. Even when that child was a full grown woman.

My brother walked back out into the main room, and I followed him. Cristian was informed of the events that had just taken place, once again by Bret. At that exact moment I had no earthly desire to relive what had happened in the last hour.

"Is it really just a flesh wound?" Cristian asked.

"Yep, Doc Petry says she'll be fine in a day or two."

"Who was the idiot trying to shoot?"

"Me," Bret volunteered.

"And who shot him?" was the next question from the barrister.

"Me," I answered.

"Sounds like he needs a lawyer." Cristian expounded as he looked at the bedroom door. "Well, it won't be me."

Maude's head appeared in the doorway. "Bart, she's awake. She's asking for you. Bret, would you go tell Jesse to close up? They can all find someplace else to drink; enough damage was done for one night. You're welcome to come back afterward."

"Thanks, Maude, but I'm gonna head home. Brother Bart, I'll see you whenever you get back to Ben's."

I nodded and hurried into her room. Her eyes were closed, but they opened partway when she heard the door. "Handsome," she murmured and reached out a hand for me. I grabbed hers and sat in the chair Maude had vacated.

"Sorry I was slow with the shot. If I'd been faster you wouldn't have been hit."

"Don't say that. He coulda . . . killed Bret. Glad he didn't."

"Idiot cowboys. When they lose at poker they blame everybody but themselves." I brushed hair back from her face. "Why don't you go to sleep now?"

"We wasted a room. At the Palace."

I raised her hand up and kissed her fingertips. "Doesn't matter. We'll stay there later."

"Go on home. You need sleep, too."

"No, ma'am. I'm stayin' right here with you. I'll sleep on the floor."

"Bart – "

"Shhhh. Close your eyes." She did, finally. I could tell she was asleep when she loosened the grip on my fingers. I sat there another few minutes and then laid her hand gently on the blanket, getting up from the chair and walking back out into the main room. Cristian and Bret were gone, and Maude had a brandy waiting for me. "She's asleep."

"Good," her mother stated. "She's gonna have a hell of a headache tomorrow. You goin' back to the ranch?"

I drank the brandy and held out the glass for another one. I needed something to steady me. When I heard the shot and saw her go down . . . "No. I'll sleep on the floor in her room. That way she won't be alone."

"You don't have to." Maude refilled my glass. I drank this one a little slower, the knots in my stomach untying one at a time.

"Yes, I do. She coulda been killed. I need to be with her."

Maude looked at me, her gaze steady and firm. "That's how it is, huh?"

I nodded my head. "That's how it is."

"What happens when . . . ?"

"I don't know, Maude. I just don't know."

XXXXXXXX

The rest of the night was restless, for both of us. Maude brought in another chair, and I slept the way I had with Bret so many nights. When you're a professional gambler there's plenty of times when there's no money and no bed; you learn to sleep wherever you can. And I'm not sure that what I did could be called sleeping, anyway.

I sort of woke when I smelled food – bacon and eggs if my nose was telling me the truth. By the time my eyes came unstuck and opened, Maude was standing next to me with a cup of hot coffee. I reached up and took it from her, and she asked, "Want something in it?" She had the brandy bottle in her other hand.

"No, thanks. This is fine." I swung my legs down off the second chair and brushed it off. "Sit down."

"There's a plate on the table with breakfast. Go eat something."

"Not really hungry. "

"Don't care. Eat anyway. You can bring it back in here, y'know." She gave me the _'I'm a mother, listen to_ _me'_ smile and I knew better than to argue.

"Yes, ma'am." So I went out to the kitchen, picked up the plate she'd left me, and brought it back with me. I set the food and coffee on the chair and put myself down on the floor while I ate. I got about halfway finished and couldn't go any further; every woman I know tries to overfeed me. When I'd eaten what I could, Maude looked at the food left and shook her head.

"No wonder you're so thin," Maude remarked. "Your father doesn't eat like that." That was true. Everybody in that house had the Maverick appetite but me. But when had Maude shared a meal with Pappy? Teasing, she remarked, "Are you sure you're not adopted?"

"He's a Maverick, alright," came from the bed, and I stood up in a hurry.

"Good mornin'," I told Doralice **,** moving the plate and the coffee to the floor so I could sit down. "How's your head?"

"Still feels like a horse kicked me."

I nodded. "One did. But it came from a Colt Forty-Five. I don't ever look that good when I get shot," I complained.

"That's because I'm prettier than you," she responded. "Can I sit up?"

Maude moved in to prop up the pillows on the bed and I took my plate back out to the kitchen, filled my coffee cup and poured one for Miss Donovan. Her eyes lit up when she saw the extra cup in my hands. "Ooooh, handsome, you knew just what I wanted," she giggled, reaching for the cup.

"And here all the time I thought you wanted me," was my reply.

"I do, sugar, I do. But right now I need the coffee. When can I get out of this bed?"

"Not today," her mother told her, and Doralice's face fell.

"Why not?"

This time I answered her. "You feel pretty good, but you've been restin' since it happened. You get out of that bed and you'll see how much your head can hurt. You were shot, and you need to stay right where you are."

She made a face and I almost laughed, but what I'd told her was the truth. Of course, that never stopped me from ignoring doctor's orders, either. "And just what are you gonna do for help down at Maude's?" she asked her mother. "It's Saturday. You need more than just Jesse."

Maude turned to me. "Will you stay with Doralice tonight?"

"I don't need a babysitter!" The woman with the bullet wound protested.

I grinned. "It'll be my pleasure. I'll ride back to the ranch and get cleaned up, change clothes, and come on back. Then you can go in this evenin'. If Pappy and Ben are comin' into town, they'll be there as backup."

"Maybe I can get Beauregard to run the house game tonight, and I can stay at the bar." Maude was thinking out loud.

"I don't see why not," I told her. "I'm sure he'd be happy to help out a . . . friend."

"If he's up when you get there . . . would you ask him, please?"

I smiled at Maude and nodded my head, then bent down and kissed Doralice on the cheek. "I'll be back quick as I can."

"Good," she pouted. "And bring a book. You can read to me."


	21. I'm Coming Back

Chapter 13 – I'm Coming Back

The only one that was awake when I got to Uncle Ben's was Lily Mae, or so I thought. The first words out of her mouth were, "How's Miss Donovan?"

I let out a breath. "She'll be fine," and then I slumped into a kitchen chair. I really hadn't thought about what happened last night until just now, and suddenly it was too much to think about. Bret could have been killed. Doralice was shot. What if I'd missed the cowboy entirely? I cradled my head in my hands and felt Lily Mae's soft touch on my shoulders.

"They're both alright, Mr. B. You saved your brother."

"Yeah, but if I'd been quicker Doralice wouldn't have gotten hurt." That idea had plagued me since last night.

"You just said it yourself. She'll be fine." She pulled a pot of coffee off the stove and put a cup in front of me. "What's really botherin' you?"

I drank the coffee and wondered the same thing. "Nothin'. I don't know. When did Pappy go to bed?"

"He didn't," a voice said, and Pappy was in the seat next to me. "Whatta you need, boy?"

"Are you an Ben goin' into Maude's tonight?"

"We were plannin' on it afore all this happened."

"And now?"

"You need me for somethin'? Wait, Maude needs me for somethin'?"

"Yeah. She wants to know if you can run the house game so she can cover the bar."

He nodded and gave me a Beauregard smile. "Sure, I can do that. You alright?"

I nodded but didn't answer the question. "I gotta get changed." I started to stand up and walk away; Pappy grabbed my arm.

"What's wrong?"

"I coulda lost 'em both."

"But you didn't. Just remember that. You didn't."

I nodded again, and Pappy let go. I trudged up the stairs and down to the room I'd been sleeping in, went in and closed the door. Then I sat down on the bed. Why was this bothering me so much? Was it really about Bret? Or was it about something else entirely? Doralice? Was I wrong when I said I loved her the way I'd always loved her? Had it turned into somethin' different when I wasn't looking?

I stood up and took off my coat, vest, shirt, and tie, dropped them on the bed and went over to the small dresser that held a wash basin and a towel. I cleaned up and shaved, and at least the outside of me felt better. I put on a black shirt and my buckskin jacket, grabbed my wallet and put it in the inside pocket, and went back to the door. When I pulled it open my brother was standing there.

"Just about to knock," he told me.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"I heard you an Pappy downstairs." Bret looked like he'd gotten straight out of bed; rumpled pants, shirt half unbuttoned, messy hair. "You just get home?"

"Yeah, and I'm leavin' again."

"Back to Maude's?"

"Yeah."

"Bart, if there's anything I can do –"

I looked up at him, and I knew he was serious. "There is. Quit askin' me about New Mexico."

Something flickered in his eyes for just a moment, then it was gone. "Alright. I will." He moved aside and I left. Straight down the stairs and out the front door. Noble looked at me like I'd lost my mind but didn't make a sound. I turned him around and headed back to Little Bend.

XXXXXXXX

"Those are your choices," I told Doralice. "God or Jules Verne."

"Jules Verne," was her answer. "I've never read anything of his before. Is he good?"

"If you give him a chance," I told her. "Not as good as Dickens, but I've read all of those. So, on to Jules Verne." And with that I began reading to her. _"It was on Sunday, the 24_ _th_ _of May, 1863, that my uncle, Professor Lidenbrock, came rushing suddenly back to his little house in the old part of Hamburg, No. 19, Königstrasse . . . "_

I read to her for almost three hours, stopping on more than one occasion for water, or food, or just a moment's rest. Simon came by and checked on her, pronouncing that she was freed from the confinement of bed tomorrow, and we both took a nap around two in the afternoon. Doralice insisted I join her in bed, just to hold her, of course, and I had no objections. I always sleep better when there's a beautiful woman in my arms. Doesn't everyone?

I woke with an odd feeling; nothing unusual for me, but I knew that I had to explain my trip to the woman I was sharing a bed with. I wasn't quite sure how to do that, so I put it off until Maude left for the evening. "How's your head?" I started by asking.

"The horse that kicked me feels like a small pony now. That's an improvement, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. I was hoping you'd say that. There's something I want to tell you." For just a second there was a look of panic on her face, and I tried to ally her fears. "Couple of months ago – when I was at Uncle Ben's but I didn't come into town – somethin' happened that you don't know about."

"When you died, you mean?" Apparently she knew more than I thought. "When you left for the river, your father came to see Maude. He told her; she told me. It breaks my heart, to think I could've lost you before I ever found you."

"There's more than that, darlin'." I sat down on the side of the bed and took her hand in mine. "The eight days I fought the fever – I created a whole town, a whole life in my delirium. People I played poker with and got to know. A job I accepted. Don't laugh – I took a job." I had to stop and wait while she tried not to giggle. Finally she settled down, and I continued my explanation. "There was a girl. A girl I didn't know at first – but a girl I grew to love. And I was happy, and content. Remember, this was all in my head. Until I stopped breathin'."

Doralice sat and listened to me, watching me the whole time. Ever since she'd stifled the giggle, she'd made no sound, just kept track of me with those aqua blue eyes – and I had no idea what she was thinking. Why was I telling her all this? Because Bret had made it sound as if I should, and maybe he was right. It seemed important that she should know about it, at least know why I was goin' to Las Cruces. It seemed like the right and honest thing to do. It seemed like what you would do when you loved someone; tell them the truth. It was important to me that she understood how I felt. When had it gotten to be important? I'm not sure.

"But?" she asked me.

"But I came back; I mean I came back to Bret and Pappy and Ben. I didn't stay in Las Cruces, in my head or my delirium; I came home. And I started breathin' again. I only remembered bits and pieces of it, until Bret told me everything I'd talked about while I had the fever; then I remembered it all."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to know why I'm goin' to Las Cruces. Somethin's not right; it's not finished. And I hafta find out what it is. I'm not gonna be settled about this until then." We sat there for I don't know how long, with her hand in mine, in silence and contemplation, until she finally raised her eyes and looked me in the face.

"Are you coming back?"

"Yes," I answered her as truthfully as I could. "I'm comin' back."

"Are you coming back to me?"

I looked at her hand, and it looked small and dainty in mine. Like I said before, something had changed, and I don't know quite when that happened. "Yes, I'm comin' back to you."


	22. Lovin' a Scoundrel

Chapter 14 – Lovin' a Scoundrel

I breathed a little easier, now that I'd told Doralice everything. Really, the only thing I left out was the marriage. And that never actually happened.

I knew I'd done the right thing when she reached up and grabbed a handful of my shirt and pulled me down to her level. "C'mere, you," she told me, and planted a big-time kiss on me. That deserved a reply, and I was once again reminded of how sweet she fit inside my embrace. Before we'd gotten very far down that road I heard a persistent knocking at the front door, and I left my 'patient' rather reluctantly.

"Dang it, that better not be Pappy," I muttered as I opened the front door. To my surprise it was Ralph Marbury, the relatively new sheriff in Little Bend. "Sheriff, you lookin' for me or Doralice?"

"Both of you, actually, Maverick. How is she?"

I held the door open. "Come see for yourself." Little Bend's last sheriff had gotten a deputy marshal's job in San Antonio, and Marbury hadn't been in town for more than a few months. Seemed to be a decent fellow. Let's put it this way – he hadn't thrown any of the Mavericks in jail yet.

"You sure?" He looked around, in case there was some reason he shouldn't.

"Yep. I'm the official babysitter."

"I heard that," my girl hollered from the bedroom.

"Sounds too big to need a babysitter," he kind of laughed and came on in. I followed him through the house, after pointing the way, and he removed his hat as he stood in the doorway to her room. "Miss Donovan, how are you?"

"I'm down to a brand new foal," Doralice answered, and left Marbury with a confused look. I grinned, knowing exactly what she meant. "Please, sit down, Sheriff."

"I came to see if you could tell me what happened last night." He looked at Doralice, then at me.

"Ladies first," I offered.

"I was tending bar about two in the morning," she started. "Bart was playing poker at one table; his brother Bret at another. It was still kind of noisy, and I didn't hear much out of the ordinary until the first shot went off. Then before I could do anything, two shots together, and I got hit with one of the bullets. That's all I know, Sheriff."

Marbury turned to me. "Maverick, you got more of an explanation?"

"Like the lady said, sheriff, my brother was playin' poker with the cowboy and four or five others. He'd been at the same table all evenin'. And the cowboy was losin' the whole time. He decided somebody was cheatin', and that had to be Bret. So the damn fool made the accusation and pulled his gun under the table. I was sittin' at the table behind 'em, and I saw the Colt come out. I warned him not to do it, but he shot anyway. I fired just as he got off the second round. Caught him in the hand; his bullet went wild. That's the one that got Miss Donovan."

"Sounds just about like what everybody else told me. Hear tell you all got a reputation in this town – as honest gamblers. Didn't know there was such a thing."

"If you mean the Mavericks play poker without cheatin', you're right. Bret and I were born and raised here. Pappy and Uncle Ben still live here, but it wouldn't matter if they didn't. We're not card sharps, Marbury. Ask anybody that knows us."

He stood up and put his hat back on, then tipped it to Doralice. "Miss Donovan, hope you feel better. Mr. Maverick, you be here for a while?"

I shook my head. "Just to the end of next week, sheriff. I have a trip planned. But I'll be back after that. You need me for anything, just get hold of Pappy. He'll find me."

I followed him back to the door. "Thanks," he said and was gone. I returned to the girl confined to bed.

"I think that's over," I told her.

"It should be. You prevented a cold-blooded murder."

"Yeah, but you heard the skepticism about honest gamblers. Nobody believes us. It gets tiresome."

"Come on back over here," Doralice offered. "Let's see if I can take your mind off that."

XXXXXXXX

According to Maude, things were considerably more peaceful on Saturday night than they had been on Friday. The Maverick clan returned to the Donovan house, per Maude's invitation, for breakfast, and Doralice was allowed to get up and dressed for the occasion. It felt a little odd, but at the same time right, for all of us to share a meal.

I rode back to the house with everyone so the wounded bartender could have some alone time with her mother. Besides, I wanted a conversation with my father, and the best time to have one was on the way home.

I pulled Noble back to fall in next to Pappy's horse. Bret saw the move and rode on up ahead with Ben. I was grateful for the courtesy. Bret and I seemed to have entered into a kind of uneasy peace for the moment. I intended to see what I could do to correct that before I left next week, but for right now it was tolerable.

"Not comin' back here to tell me how good lookin' I am, are ya?" Pappy asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"No, sir, but I'd like to ask you somethin'." I waited for his acquiescence before continuing.

"Well, go on son, ask anything you want."

I hesitated. What I was about to ask him might make him think I was crazy. Then again, that never seemed to stop me before. "Pappy, when you met Momma - how'd you know?"

"How'd I know she was the one?"

"Yeah," I answered softly.

"She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't imagine the rest a my life without her. I didn't wanna imagine it that way. Somethin' . . . somethin' inside me just knew. Then all I had ta do was make her love me." I must have looked unhappy and dismayed because Pappy rushed to reassure me. "But that was me, boy. Maybe your feelin's don't work like that. Wasn't that way with Caroline, was it?"

I shook my head. "No, it wasn't. I thought she was pretty, but I never saw how beautiful she was until later . . . much later. Inside and out. And I knew her for months before I realized . . . that I loved her."

"See, that's what I mean. Everybody's different. You an Doralice?" He had what I would call a pure Beauregard smile on his face – sly and hopeful, yet concerned and careful.

"That's what I'm tryin' to understand. Can it really just sneak up on you like that?"

Pappy laughed then, and it was a restrained sound. "Oh yeah. When you're least expectin' it. Just the way that little critter at home snuck up on ya."

"But that's not . . . "

"Sure it is, like the way you feel about that old scoundrel you're ridin' on. Just a different kind. There's all kinds a love, son. Some of it lasts a lifetime. Most of it don't. You just gotta figure out which kind it is. Is this the one? Or is this just one of a handful? Do you wanna look at her face every mornin' the rest of your life, or just until you leave for the next town? Do you wonder what it'd be like to have sons and daughters with her? Or is that the last thing on your mind? Those are some of the questions you need to ask yourself, Bartley. If you can't answer any of those questions, maybe that's an answer in itself."

I'd hoped against hope for some clarity; instead, I got more confusion. Why was every question so tough to answer? Maybe I should just go to New Mexico now. Get away and sort out my feelings later. Or maybe I shouldn't try to sort them out at all. Maybe I should just sit back and enjoy whatever this was, and not put so much effort into tryin' to understand it. That caused me to wonder anew – was Doralice havin' as much trouble as I was? Somehow I didn't think so. Which meant either she wasn't questioning just what this all meant to her, or she'd made up her mind a long time ago.

I was tired; I was frustrated, and I'd had to shoot a man just because he played poker poorly and couldn't hold his temper. That feeling of euphoria that I'd brought back with me from my stay at the Trinity River was gone – run outta town the way I'd been run out of so many. The only thing I wanted right now was a few hours' sleep, and one of Lily Mae's heated baths. Everything else could wait.


	23. Resolutions

Chapter 15 – Resolutions

Two days passed, then two more. I spent a lot of time with Doralice; horseback riding, buggy riding; sitting down by the river, sometimes picnicking, reading other times; taking lazy afternoon naps, even helping with inventory at the saloon. One day I convinced Pappy to go fishing, and we took Melody and let her catch fish the way she had at Trinity River. He laughed like a crazy man, watching her try to keep her paws dry as she flipped small fish up on the riverbank.

Late one afternoon Doralice and Maude found it necessary to go shopping, and Noble needed the exercise, so Bret saddled Blackthorn and we rode up the hill to see Momma. My brother was quiet, as was I, and he looked thoughtful and pensive. That fragile peace still seemed to exist between us, and I was anxious for us to get back to a more reasonable place in our relationship. So, I said something brilliant. "You're awful quiet this afternoon."

"Trying to avoid fights," his answer came back.

"I didn't mean to be touchy."

"You weren't, really, unless I brought up . . . well, you know."

"I'm leavin' day after tomorrow. I told Doralice everything."

"How'd she take it all?"

I casually shrugged. "Didn't seem to bother her a bit."

He nodded his head in a moment of clarity I hadn't been granted. "She's not threatened."

I found it an odd statement at first, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Evelyn Sunday was ether, and air, and all in my imagination. Doralice Donovan was flesh and blood – and oh, what flesh and blood. The first time I held her in my arms and kissed her, she knew exactly what excited me, what held my attention. And it was the same things that she wanted. We fit together with no unfulfilled expectations, no unexplained logic. What man in his right mind would be willing to trade all of that for a fleeting illusion?

I'd brought flowers; mistflowers and wild petunias and Texas thistle, everything I could gather together this time of year. Momma loved flowers, and she always had some kind of little flower garden growing out among the vegetables. Maybe that's why she liked the Desert Willow tree so much, because it produced such beautiful pink blooms. I laid them on her grave and my brother and I stood side-by-side, silent, deep within our own thoughts, both wondering what our lives would be like, what we'd be like, if she was still alive. We always thought about those things when we came up here; we'd talked about it a long time ago. Would she be proud of us, that we'd made our way in the world and were beholdin' to no man, or would she be disappointed that we were gamblers, just like the man she loved? Maybe a little of both.

It took me a minute to realize my brother was no longer standing next to me. That happened sometimes. He remembered her more than I did, and the older I got the more my memories faded. Somehow I don't think Bret's did. Once in a while when we were sleepin' under the stars we'd talk about her; Bret always reminded me of things that had begun to slip away from me. Maybe that comes from being around her almost two years longer than me. Maybe his memory was just better than mine.

I turned to look for him and found him leaning against the tree with one hand; his head was bowed and his eyes were closed. I wasn't sure if he was nappin' or prayin', but I wasn't about to shake him out of either state. I took one flower from the bunch I'd brought my mother and put it on Aunt Abby's grave. I was just a baby when she died, but Momma talked about her so much I always felt close to her. The thought occurred to me, as it had so many times when I came up here, that the Maverick men didn't seem to be able to hold onto their women. I had a wife buried in New Mexico; Beau had one buried in Montana. Why did the men in this family appear to slip by unscathed, while the woman fell like burned-out trees after a fire?

I walked quietly over to Bret and placed my hand in the middle of his back. Slowly he opened his eyes and I saw his lips form the word 'Amen.' That answered my question – prayin'. "You alright?"

He nodded. "Just . . . you know."

"Can we talk for a minute, without gettin' upset with each other?"

"Sure." There was a look in Bret's eyes I knew well. It was there whenever somethin' happened between us that one or the other was gonna regret. Or when one of us had already put his foot in his mouth.

"I don't like the way things've been between us. We're too far apart. I want my brother back, and I'll do almost anything to remedy that situation."

"Anything?"

"Almost anything," I repeated.

"Oh." One word from him spoke volumes. I knew exactly what he wanted, and that was for me to give up the idea of goin' to Las Cruces to shake off this nagging feeling I had. I love my brother; hell, he practically raised me. And I'd do almost anything for him. Almost anything. This may have been the only thing I wouldn't do.

"Bret, you remember the summer you and Mary Alice were determined to get married, so's she'd stay in Little Bend after her father got killed?"

"All too well."

"Remember some of the things you were willin' to try?" I watched the look on his face change as he ran through all the steps he and his girl had taken to keep her in Little Bend. Ultimately the attempt failed. "Remember how you felt when she left and for months afterward? I can live with that feelin', long as I know I did everything I could to make things right."

"But how do you know they aren't right? How do you know those people even exist? What if you get all the way there, and nothin's the same?"

I grinned at him. "Then all I'll have lost is a few weeks' time. And this unsettled feelin' I can't shake will be gone, and I can live however I'm supposed to without worryin' about it. Make sense?"

I had him, and he knew it. He finally shrugged his shoulders and gave me a little smile. "Alright. If you feel that strong about it."

"I do."

"Still want me to go with you?"

"You know I do."

"Then I will. You're leavin' when?"

"Well, I was gonna leave Friday. But if you're goin' with me I can wait until Saturday."

"Saturday it is, Brother Bart."

There was only one problem that I could foresee. "Who tells Pappy?"

XXXXXXXX

"I'm leavin' Saturday mornin'."

We were lying in bed, with Doralice in my arms, after . . . well, just after. It was satisfying to hold her close as we both lay, peaceful and still and content, and for long moments I wondered why I was so intent on leaving to go find . . . what, exactly? But the longer I lay there, sated and fulfilled, the more I knew I wanted this feeling to last, and there was small chance of that happening as long as Las Cruces still existed in the back of my mind. The decision to leave was the right one, and once this whatever-it- was that pulled me to New Mexico had disappeared, I could return to Texas and spend more time with the beautiful woman I now held.

"Are you goin' alone?"

I smiled a little at that. There was concern in her voice, worry for me and my well-being, and it was good to hear, and appreciated. "Nope, big brother has deigned to go with me."

"Good. I'm glad. You two have a particular skill set for looking out for each other. Makes me feel better."

I sighed and pulled her even closer. "Makes me feel better, too. But it bothers me that he won't be here in case you need somethin'."

She wiggled in my arms. "I can take care of myself. Well, most of the time. Jesse's got a double-barrel shotgun behind the bar now."

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. I assume you know how to use it."

This time she giggled. "Of course I do. I'm gonna carry a derringer in my pocket, too, just in case."

I bent my head just a little to kiss her. "Be careful, would you? I don't wanna hafta rescue you from a hangman's noose in Texas."

"Me, either. Once in Mexico was enough, thank you. Will you be here tomorrow night?"

I grinned from ear to ear. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Not quite sure if I can sleep without you in my arms."

She pulled away from me just a little then and leaned up on her elbow to watch my face. "Sleeping without me better be all you're able to do."

We both laughed, and I kissed her again. "Don't worry. That's the only thing I'll be doing – sleeping."


	24. The Promise

Chapter 16 – The Promise

I was packed and ready to go when Friday night rolled around. The plan was for me to ride into Little Bend and spend the night with Doralice at the Palace, like we'd intended to the night she got shot a week ago. Saturday morning I'd meet Bret for breakfast and we'd ride out for Las Cruces. I took extra care of Noble and spent time with Miss Melody, trying to explain to her highness that I would be gone for a while but her number two human would be around to keep her occupied. She 'Brrrrrrruuuppped' me the way she had the first time we'd met and rubbed all over me, making sure that I was marked as 'hers.' I scratched her ears and she followed me down the hall to Pappy's bedroom, waiting while I knocked on the door and scurrying inside when I heard him yell, "Come in."

"Dag nab it," he said as he saw her run in and jump on his bed. "Why don't you take that critter with you to Las Cruces? Maybe you can leave her there." Just about that time he sat down in a chair and she was instantly in his lap, purring and rubbing against his face. "Told you not to do that," he said to her, and she stood on little feet and 'Brrrrrrruuuppped' him. "Aw, that's no fair." Once again she rubbed and purred, and he finally gave in and grinned while scratching her.

"She's a woman, Pappy, what do you expect? She just loves Maverick men."

He looked up at me while she lay down in his lap. "You leavin'?"

"Pretty soon. I came to say goodbye."

"Your brother's goin' with you, right?"

"Yep. He'll meet me in town in the mornin'. We're headed out then."

He put the cat on the floor and stood up, doing something that I hadn't expected. He embraced me, encircling me with those long arms of his. I hugged him back; it seemed the older we got, the more affectionate we became. I started to pull away and he held on, quietly telling me, "Don't take no chances, alright? I want you back in better shape than you were the last time you came home."

Beauregard Maverick had always been a large man, tall and strong. I remember how big he seemed to me when I was nothing more than a boy. It was kinda jolting to realize that not only was Bret now taller than Pappy, but I was, too. And those long arms that used to feel like iron bands when they held you were not quite as robust as they used to be. I pulled back just a little and there were the beginnings of tears in the corner of his eyes, and it surprised me. _'Keep that up, Pappy, and I'll begin to think I'm more important than you let on.'_ My mind thought the words, but my mouth didn't say them. "I'll do my best." Before he could pull completely away, I whispered in his ear, "I love you, Pa."

There was a small, sad smile on his face, and he kissed me on the cheek. "I love you too, son. Take care of your brother."

"I will, Pappy, I promise. And I'll let him take care of me."

I'd said my goodbyes to Lily Mae and Uncle Ben earlier, and I grabbed my war bag and threw it over the saddle. With no further adieu, I swung Noble around and headed towards town, and one more night with the woman I was beginning to think I loved.

XXXXXXXX

Friday was usually the night that Maude took off and Doralice and Jesse ran the place, but Maude knew I was leavin' in the morning and she wanted me and her daughter to have some extra time. I think Maude wanted to see us together from the very start, but she didn't believe it was actually gonna happen. Neither did I, for that matter. Whatever this was developing into, between me and Doralice, was totally unexpected, at least the way I looked at it. I think it surprised the aqua-eyed blonde, too, but neither of us was complaining. On the contrary, I felt better about it than I had anything else in a long time. Even Ailish O'Rourke was turning into a distant memory, and I'd asked the girl to marry me. Funny the mistakes we make, and some of the painful ways they get corrected.

We dined at the hotel, then went on up to our room. The Palace Hotel had certainly earned its name. The rooms were spacious and elegant, with fine linens and every luxury one could think of, even including fresh flowers on the table. Of course, I had paid an extra dollar for the best room they had, but to see Doralice's eyes light up when I opened the door was worth every penny. "My goodness, this is beautiful!" she exclaimed.

I swept her up into my arms and pulled the pins out from her hair that held everything on top of her head, and the blonde curls cascaded down her back. I ran my fingers slowly through that silky spun gold and brought her head, with its luscious mouth, as close to mine as I could get and still speak. "Not anywhere near as beautiful as you," I whispered, and meant every word. We kissed until we were both breathless, and when we paused for air she threw back her head and laughed.

"Who knew? How could I even begin to think I'd ever feel this way? And about Marshal Rory Emory?"

That prompted me to laugh with her. I remembered what we'd gone through in Mexico, with me posing as a Texas State Policeman to retrieve her from the hangman's noose for a murder that was nothing more than self-defense. Then the desperate flight for the border and our lives after that, with me almost forfeiting mine to get her home. The ups and downs of our 'friendship', until it had finally turned into something else entirely. Here we stood, our last night together for who knew how long, and all I could think of was . . . "Promise me you'll be here when I get back," I practically begged her.

I picked her up then and carried her to the bed. As I bent to kiss her, she answered me. "I promise."


	25. William Bart Maverick

Part III – Las Cruces Chapter 1 – William Bart Maverick

It was harder than I thought to pull myself out of that nice warm bed and away from the beautiful lady in it. If it wasn't for the voice in my head that kept saying _'You . . . must . . . go'_ I never would have done it. For once in my life I had no desire to go anywhere further away than Uncle Ben's ranch.

There was that voice, however, and no matter what I did it just wouldn't settle down. So pull myself out of that bed I did; got cleaned up and dressed, kissed Doralice goodbye multiple times, and met my brother downstairs in the dining room for breakfast. He had coffee waiting for me and was surprised when I ordered a good size breakfast. What was even more surprising to him was that I ate it all. .Bite.

"What has gotten into you, Brother Bart?" he asked as I finished the last bit of food on my plate.

"A man's gotta keep up his strength," I told him, and for a moment he looked astonished to hear that coming from my mouth. Then he chuckled.

"Yes, yes he does. Glad to see you finally comin' to that conclusion. You ready to go?"

I put some money down on the table as I stood up. "Here, pay for breakfast. I'll be right back." I made a mad dash for room 215 upstairs, and one more kiss with Doralice. When I returned Bret was already waiting for me outside. I'd had Noble saddled and ready to go before I joined my brother for breakfast, so all I had to do was swing up on the gelding and we could leave. I hesitated, questioning myself again about forgetting the whole thing and staying in Little Bend. That's when the persistent feeling I'd had for weeks raised its voice and let it be known if I wanted any peace I'd better move right along.

There was no great rush to get to New Mexico, but if I wanted to find out why the continual pull it was in my best interest to get us moving. We made San Angelo the first night and found a hotel room. The accommodations sure weren't like the Palace, but it was clean and it had a bed. I was happy we weren't out on the trail.

The next morning it was pouring rain, and after a brief discussion Bret and I decided to wait it out before going on. There was a small saloon there, Dirty Mary's, and Bret managed to find a poker game to keep him busy. I had little or no interest in poker, so I sat at a table and drank coffee while I played Maverick Solitaire and tried to make some sense out of all the things I knew from the Las Cruces in my imagination. No matter how many times I ran through it, nothing seemed logical. The only thing that might have pulled me back was Evy, but she couldn't compete with the flesh and blood that was Doralice.

In the early afternoon the rain stopped, and we decided to move on. We slept under the stars that night and made good time the next day; we were almost to Odessa by the next evening. We didn't do much talking, but things were peaceful between us. I don't know what was on Bret's mind but mine was occupied with Miss Donovan and just where that might be headed.

There was a long stretch of desert between Odessa and El Paso, and we made sure we had enough supplies to get us through the distance. By the time we finally got to El Paso we were both ready to sleep in a bed and take a bath, and that's what we did. That night we played poker but my mind was elsewhere, and I quit relatively early. I went back to the hotel we'd picked and turned in, and soon found myself back in that world – in my dreams, of course.

 _Somehow I knew the wedding had never taken place. Evy and I parted, not enemies but certainly not friends, and I returned to Little Bend. A year later I was back in Little Bend when I received a telegram that Evy Sunday was arriving on the stage and wanted to see me. I couldn't imagine why but I went into town at the appointed time and met the coach. Evy wasn't alone._

 _Tenora was with her, and the housekeeper carried an unexpected bundle in her arms – wrapped in a blue blanket. A baby, a boy baby, no more than three or four months old. I was surprised; I had no idea that Evy had gotten married since we parted. And then I saw her left hand. There was a simple gold band on it, with intricate carvings – the wedding ring I'd bought for her. She wasn't married, and that was my child._

" _It's good to see you, too, Bart. Close your mouth," Evy told me, and I did, finally._

" _What . . . why . . . why didn't you tell me?" I choked out, too surprised to say much of anything else._

" _What good would it have done? We were through, over, finished. No sense getting married just for the sake of a baby. That's why I waited until now. Do you want to meet your son?" She looked at me with those black eyes and all I could do was nod._

 _Tenora handed me the bundle and I accepted it carefully. If there had been any doubt in my mind, it was erased instantly – the moment I saw his eyes. He had his grandmother's eyes, and they stared up at me in fascination. His hair was dark, like his mother's, but it looked like he had my 'damn straight' nose (as my brother always refers to it). He was definitely our son. "What's his name?" I asked, awestruck._

" _William Bart Maverick. I call him Billy Bart. He seems to like it." Evy looked at me and smiled._

 _Billy Bart. Poor kid. He'd probably hate both of us for that when he got old enough. "I . . . I don't know what to say, Evelyn." I just kept staring at him, never expecting to be standing there holding my son. "I brought the buggy, and there's plenty of room at Uncle Ben's house. Can you stay a while?"_

" _As long as you'd like us to. But you do have to give him back to me so you can drive the buggy."_

 _I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead and he squealed, then I handed him back to Evy. I helped Tenora into the buggy, followed by Evy and the baby, and climbed in myself. I wondered what Pappy would have to say – he had a grandson!_

I woke up to the sound of snoring – my brother's, I knew. I remembered immediately what I'd been dreaming, and while I didn't wake in a cold sweat as I had from so many of my nightmares, I was shaken. A baby boy! Named William Bart Maverick. Good Lord, the things my unconscious mind created. And his mother was a figment of my imagination.

I got out of bed, knowing there'd be no more sleep for me that night. Once again I wondered just what I was walking into – there had to be a reason that something was calling me back there, and I knew it sure wasn't an unborn child. Sometimes I think my brother is right – I'm a crazy man, just looking for a place to land.

I don't remember having dreams before Momma died. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, but I'd certainly had enough of them since. I've had some nightmares that would scare the life out of you, and some sweet dreams about a home and family that I still don't have.

I got dressed and went downstairs, letting Bret sleep. Just because I was up before sunrise didn't mean he had to be. I walked outside and lit a cigar, standing in the early morning air and breathing in the smoke. Doralice. I said it in my head and then spoke it out loud. "Doralice." Just the sound of her name on my tongue made me smile. Funny, when I'd finally started seeing her I couldn't get Evy Sunday out of my head – now I couldn't get the real girl, the flesh and bone one, off my mind.

With nothing better to do at this time of the day, I wandered down to the livery. "Hey, old man," I greeted Noble as I offered him the apple I'd taken from the dining room last night. As usual, and against my recommendations, he took the whole thing in one bite. "You're gonna choke to death one a these days," I told him, and he shook his head in disagreement. I got hold of the livery brush and curried him, and we spent a pleasant and peaceful hour together. Noble always seemed to enjoy being groomed and at quiet times like this with this headstrong, rambunctious gelding, I felt content.

The sun was up now, and I walked back to the hotel and up the stairs. Bret was up, just getting dressed, and he watched as I walked into the room. "Couldn't sleep?"

I shook my head. "No, woken up by a dream. My make-believe woman had a make-believe baby – my son."

"Your what?"

"You heard me. My son. William Bart Maverick. Cute little nugget."

"Did she . . . had you . . . I thought you left before you married her?"

"I did."

"And you didn't know?"

"It was a dream, Bret. How could I?"

"Okay. How about breakfast?"

I nodded at that question. "Good idea. Let's eat and get out of here. I wanna get to Las Cruces."


	26. Fifty Dollar Ante

Chapter 2 – Fifty Dollar Ante

We left El Paso as soon as breakfast was over and rode into Las Cruces right about supper. I'd wondered if anything would look familiar to me; I hadn't been here since the War. Surely things had changed since then. And yet, it all looked vaguely familiar. We went to a reasonable looking hotel, one that we both liked the look of, and I recognized it. Las Cruces City Hotel. This was exactly where I'd stayed in my imaginary life. Nice to know I was consistent.

Bret and I registered and got a large room with a sitting alcove attached. That was different, at least. And the front desk clerk didn't look familiar at all. "Can you answer a question for me?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Maverick," he answered, looking at the register.

"Is there a gaming room in this hotel?"

"No, sir, not exactly in the hotel. But there is right next door. You probably saw it as you came in. It used to be the Las Cruces Saloon, but the hotel has taken over its operation."

"Is there a nightly high-stakes poker game played there?" Bret asked.

The desk clerk laughed. "Well, Mr. Maverick, I wouldn't exactly call it a high stakes game. But there is a nightly game there. Played by some of the more prominent local citizens."

"What time does it start?"

"Oh, usually between eight and nine o'clock."

"Thanks," I told the clerk, and we went upstairs.

"You hungry?" I asked Bret after we'd had time to get settled.

"I could stand to eat," he told me. "Anything else look familiar?"

"Nope, not yet. Let's go see if there's a cantina down the street."

We did, and there was. It didn't look the way I remembered it and it wasn't exactly in the same location, but the food was just as good and the Señorita was just as pretty. It seemed peculiar, the way some things were familiar yet different. I must have been giving that more thought than I realized because Bret finally broke through to me. "You with me, son?"

He hadn't used the familial term in a while. "Yep, just thinkin' about things."

"Anything in particular?"

I nodded. "How some things are alike, and others aren't."

"That's to be expected, don't ya think?"

"I guess," I told him. "I don't know what to think, Bret. I still don't know why I had to come here. You wanna know the God's honest truth, this don't make any more sense to me than it does to you."

That elicited a smile from my brother. "It's about time. I was beginnin' to think you understood all this stuff goin' on in yer head and I was the crazy one. Nice to know neither one of us gets it."

"Far as I can figure, I just gotta play this whole thing out. Until that voice that keeps naggin' me shuts up." That was the absolute truth. I had no idea why I was here, or what it was I was supposed to do. I just figured when I'd done it things would go quiet and I could get back to my life.

"Let's go see just who's at this big poker game, shall we?" Bret asked. I looked at his plate, and it was clean. Then I looked down at mine, and it was clean, too. I didn't remember eating that much food. I guess it was time to go.

XXXXXXXX

We'd been in the old Las Cruces Saloon for about half an hour, drinking coffee and playing two-handed Maverick poker, when the 'prominent local citizens' started filtering in. None of the men that gathered at the biggest table in the room looked exactly like the men I'd imagined, but there were two or three that were close.

The first two walked in and, if my instincts were correct, they were Billy Sunday and Aiden Carmichael. Billy was in his late forties, with rapidly graying hair that hung below his collar. He was a good size man, not as tall as me, a little on the heavy set side. The only similarity between this Billy and the one in my imagination was the length of the hair.

Aiden was closer to the man I'd dreamt. A full head taller than Billy with dark hair cut short, in a proper linen suit and light colored hat, he was the picture of elegance. He didn't say much, and when he did it was followed by a wet, hacking cough.

A third man followed, a Hispanic man about the same age as Billy and Aiden, and I assumed him to be Miguel Campos. This Miguel looked more like a vaquero than a mayor. Somewhere between Billy and Aiden in height and size, he walked with a swagger born of money. He wore a smile that wouldn't quit and a pencil-thin mustache.

Only one more man joined the group to begin with, and it had to be Lee Frazier. He matched the picture in my mind's eye perfectly. He was a compactly built man, rather on the short side, and was probably in his late fifties. His hair was a handsome silver color, and his manners were impeccable. You could tell just by looking at him that he was born and bred in a fine Creole family.

They almost looked lost, sitting at the big table with only four men, and I quickly crossed the room to where they sat. "Gentlemen, is this a private game, or is a stranger welcome?"

Billy laughed, the same big, hearty laugh I heard in my head. "As long as the stranger has money, he's more than welcome, Mr. . . . ?"

"Maverick," I answered. "Bart Maverick."

I pulled out a chair and sat down. "What about the man you were playing with?" Lee asked.

"My brother Bret," I told them. "I wasn't sure you'd want two Mavericks in the same game."

"Does he cheat?" Lee asked.

"Only me," I told them. They all laughed.

"Come on over, Bret, was it?" Aiden asked.

"Yes, sir, thanks for the invite. And I do not cheat, sir, including my brother."

"Please, sit down, Bret. My name's Billy Sunday, and this is Aiden Carmichael, Miguel Campos, and Lee Frazier," he introduced everyone around the table. "Where are you boys from?"

"Texas," I told him. "A town called Little Bend. About 40 miles from Austin."

"Gamblers?" Lee asked.

"Professional poker players," Bret told him.

"There's a difference?"

"Yes, sir. Poker isn't gambling, it's a science. When you play it correctly, that is. And that's what we try our best to do. We're not card sharps, and we're not cheaters. We're respectable poker players."

"Sounds like you've had to explain that to a lot of people," Miguel offered.

"We have," I answered for both of us. "And most people don't believe us. Until they play against us."

"We'll believe you, son. Ain't no reason for you to lie." Billy Sunday might look different than I'd seen him before, but he sure sounded the same.

"Five card draw. Ante's fifty dollars," Lee explained. And the game began.


	27. Sweet as Sugar

Chapter 3 – Sweet as Sugar

"Well, that didn't come out the way it did before." That was the remark I made to Bret after we'd gone back to our hotel room. In my delirium world, I had done all the poker winning. Of course, Bret wasn't there. In the real world, my brother had cleaned up – including over three hundred dollars he'd won from me. His poker was almost as good tonight as mine had been the first night I played with the group, back when I was just hallucinating.

"So things are different?" Bret questioned.

"Of course they're different. First off, you're here. That's got to change some things. At least we got invited back for tomorrow's game."

"I noticed you didn't let on you knew who they were."

I almost snorted. "And have 'em all look at me like I was touched in the head or somethin'? Bad enough you look at me that way."

"So this place where Billy's got a woman? Sugars? They were talkin' about goin' there for breakfast. How come you didn't wanna go?"

I had to shake my head at that question. "I don't know. Somethin' was tellin' me not to."

"Now what we do until tonight?"

"Sleep, Brother Bret, sleep."

XXXXXXXX

I might have taken my own advice, but some time later I was wide awake. Knowing Bret, he was bound to sleep another two or three hours, and my stomach just wouldn't wait. It wanted coffee and it wanted it now. So I got dressed quietly and left, going downstairs and out the door one more time. I found my way down the street and finally located Sugar's, a little further south on Main Street than I remembered it. The size seemed about right, and the café in the real world was a little brighter, a little shinier than that in my delirium-induced world.

I sat towards the back, next to the big table with the 'Reserved' placard still on it – Billy Sundays' table. The cheerful, petite brunette waitress came over to pour coffee, and I couldn't help myself. "Mornin', Jancy."

She stopped pouring and stared at me. "Who are you? Do I know you?"

"No, no, sorry, I played poker with Billy and Aiden and Lee last night, and they told me about you. 'Prettiest waitress in the place,' they assured me, so I figured it had to be you." I gave her my best smile, hoping that she bought my explanation. Slowly she returned the smile, and I breathed easier.

"You new in town?"

"Yes, ma'am. Me and my brother, Bret. He's still sleepin', but I was starved. We'll be here a while, so I'm sure you'll see more of us."

She took my order and then looked at me again. "You playin' with the boys tonight?"

"I am."

"Good, come to breakfast with 'em when you're done. Sugar'll be here then. She'd be might pleased to meet you. Anybody plays with the group more'n once's automatically a friend of hers." And with that she scurried into the kitchen to order my food.

I thought about the game last night and the way things had gone in my mind the first night. Somethin' was different, besides Bret bein' there, and it took me a while to figure out just what it was. What they were, actually. Sheriff Hamilton Rose wasn't at the game, and I didn't go to breakfast with everyone afterwards. There was somethin' else missin', but I couldn't tell you exactly what it was.

Jancy brought the coffee pot with my food, and we talked a bit. I found out that Billy did indeed have a daughter named Evelyn, and she was considered a 'handful.' That she had yet to find a young man, and she was already twenty-two years old. And that everyone thought that Hank Manchester (not at poker last night, either) had been interested in more than friendship at one time.

I ate and drank my coffee while the information bounced around in my head. Maybe I needed things to be more like they had been in my imagined world, and that meant that I had to be by myself for the game and the aftermath. It was worth a try, even though that left me with a task I wasn't looking forward to. When I was finished I paid the bill, left a generous tip for Jancy, and went back to the hotel.

I found Bret in the dining room, and I sat down to have a talk with him. I didn't waste any time getting to the point. "Are you fixin' on goin' back to the game with me tonight?"

He nodded his head while he ate but I had to wait for a verbal answer. "I was. You rather I didn't?"

I worded my answer carefully. "Just tonight. I got a hunch about somethin'. "

Bret kinda stared at me before shrugging his shoulders. He wasn't gonna argue. "Fine. I can do that."

I hadn't lied to him. I just had this notion that I couldn't shake. Kinda like the feelin' that kept pushing me here to Las Cruces. If I was right . . . but there was only one way to find out, and that was to create a night as close as possible to the first night I'd imagined. Just to smooth over any strained feelings that might exist, I bought Bret's breakfast. Again.

XXXXXXXX

This poker table looked more like it. Billy, Aiden, Miguel, Lee and Sheriff Rose. Everybody was friendly, but Lee finally asked, "What happened to the man that won all the money last night?"

"Brother Bret has decided to take a night off, gentlemen; he sends his regards and regrets."

"And keeps all our money," Miguel laughed.

"Don't forget, he skinned his own brother, too," I reminded them. I turned to the man on my immediate right and struck out my hand. "You must be the sheriff. I'm Bart Maverick. Me and my brother Bret played with everyone last night. Needless to say, I wasn't the big winner."

We shook hands and Hamilton grinned. "Yeah, I gathered that. You're not wanted for anything, either. I haven't got done checkin' for your brother, yet." That was meant as a joke; everybody, including me, laughed.

"Good to know," I countered. "Same as last night? Fifty dollar ante?"

Heads nodded, and we got another game started. We'd been playing for several hours when the subject of a dinner Billy was planning for the group came up. "Say, Bart, why don't you and Bret join us out at my place. Tomorrow night, about six? If you're gonna still be here, that is."

That was more like it. "I'm sure we will, I just don't know what Bret's plans are. Depends on how it goes tonight, I assume." I winked and another round of laughter ensued. "But I'll be there, Billy. Where do you live?"

"Got a little place out west of town. Take the only road that goes that way – Valpariso Road. You come up over a small hill and ya can't miss it."

"Better wear your gun, too. Billy's got a daughter that bites," Lee chuckled.

"Does she have sharp teeth?" I asked. No laughter this time, but several smiles.

"No, just a sharp tongue," Billy told me.

"She's a beautiful girl," Hamilton flat out stated.

"With the temperament of a mountain lion," Aiden finally said, then went into a coughing spell. "Sorry," he managed to get out once he'd stopped.

"Sounds like – "

"Yeah, it is," he answered before I could finish. Just like Doc, if you didn't say the word consumption, Aiden could pretend that it wasn't.

"Good friend of mine's got the same thing. Sorry to hear about yours." I hadn't seen Doc Holliday for a while. When this was all over I thought about tracking him down to see how he was doin' and what he was up to.

We played another hour or so before Lee finally threw in his cards. "I'm done, boys. All I've done all night is lose to a different Maverick, and I'm about dying of hunger. What do you say we call it a night and head to Sugars?"

That suggestion was agreed to by everyone at the table except Miguel. "Sorry, I've got a meeting at the hacienda in the morning. I've got to ride. But I'll be at your place for dinner, Billy."

The remaining group headed down the street; Miguel mounted a beautiful Arabian stallion tied out front and headed southwest. As expected, the place was quite full save for the reserved table in back. Everybody headed back there and I followed along. Jancy was there again and came, coffee pot in hand, greeting everyone with a "Hello, boys!" as she poured out the black liquid.

"Jancy, this is . . . " Billy started, but the waitress quickly stepped in.

"I know, Bart Maverick. I met him this mornin' when he came in. Drinks coffee like there's no tomorrow."

"Guilty as charged," I answered.

"Gimme your orders and I'll send Sugar out when I go on back there."

Jancy wrote it all down, made one more round with the coffee, and headed for the kitchen. In just a minute or so Sugar appeared at the table. She still had a long red braid down her back, but she looked more like the working owner of a thriving business and less like the queen dressed all in pink I'd seen in my head. She walked right on over and I stood and tipped my hat. "My, what lovely manners. Just like your brother told me you had." I wasn't surprised. Trust Bret to find the best food in town. "And pretty, too!"

I stopped myself from gritting my teeth and smiled at the lady. "That does sound like Brother Bret," I explained, and sat back down. "He has good manners, too."

Sugar agreed. "Yes. Yes, he does. Gentlemen, I'm one cook short, so I can't stay. I'll see you all," and here she bent down and gave Billy a kiss on the cheek, "at Mr. Sunday's house tonight."

"That is a fine lookin' woman," I remarked as she walked away.

"And taken, son," Aiden pointed out.

"You're not married?" I asked Billy.

"Widowed," came the quick reply. There was no anger or rancor is his voice when he answered me, unlike the way he'd sounded when he first told me, back in my head. Different time, different story? Guess I'd just have to wait to find out.


	28. Matchmaker

Chapter 4 – Matchmaker

I told Bret about the dinner invitation when I got back to the hotel room. He was about half undressed, on his way to bed, and I didn't ask where he'd been or what he'd done last night. He did look happier than the last time I'd seen him, but it didn't take much to make my brother smile.

"So, what do you want me to do? Go with you or not?"

"I want ya to go with me. I got an idea. You got time to listen now, or you wanna wait till later today?"

"Now's good."

So I laid out everything that I'd been thinking about, and all the steps I thought we should take, and finally told him why I believed that persistent voice wouldn't leave me alone. He sat and listened, an amused expression on his face slowly turning to concern and then worry. "You really think this is all gonna work? And that's what's been botherin' you all this time?"

"Yeah, I do. It just feels right, Bret. I don't know how else to explain it. Remember Lakota Pass?" I knew he would; all the trouble and pain that occurred there because of my own guilty feelings and a poisonous weed. That was almost as bizarre as what was happening now, here in Las Cruces. And in the end, everything had turned out. Somehow I had the feeling that this would all work itself out, too. I just hope that happened without too much destruction.

"Unfortunately, yes. Guess I should just trust your instincts, huh?'

"I'd sure appreciate it if you would." I saw the smile return to his face, slowly at first, and I grinned back at him. "Thanks, Pappy."

"No problem, son. Let's get some sleep, huh?"

XXXXXXXX

We were both up in time to get dressed and get the horses saddled. It was easy enough to find Valpariso Road and the gate to the WB Sunday Ranch looked just like the one I'd seen in my head. We rode on down the road until we came to the hill that overlooked the ranch. The layout was different; the buildings not quite as large, but still impressive. The grounds themselves covered just as big an expanse as they had before. Bret turned and looked at me. "You sure don't dream 'em small, do you?"

"No sense in that, is there? Now remember, don't expect much from her. She's gonna be hostile, sure that Billy's invited us hopin' that one of us'll be able to tame her."

"What if it don't work?" Bret had that look back on his face again, and I just laughed.

"Then I've tried my best, and we head back to Texas." I paused for a minute and thought about the woman I'd left there. "I got things to attend to back there, anyway."

"Named Doralice?" my brother asked with a grin.

"Maybe." I nudged Noble forward, and we took off down the hill. Bret and Blackthorn quickly followed. We were a little early, but there were already several horses tied outside, including Miguel's Arabian.

I had brought a bottle of Kentucky bourbon with me as a gift after double-checking to make sure Billy still drank it. "I suppose you did that before?" Bret asked.

"Yep. Let's see who answers the door."

"Who do you expect . . . " was as far as Bret got when the front door swung open. It was Evelyn, and she was every bit as beautiful as she was in my delirium. Maybe more so. And just like last time, she was not impressed with me. Or Bret.

"Oh Lord, my father's at it again. Well, come on in boys, I'm Evy Sunday and I am not interested in marrying either of you. Now that that's settled, who are you?"

Same chocolate hair, same coal black eyes, same sharp tongue. Since I was standing in front, I answered her. "We're the Maverick's, Miss Sunday. I'm Bart, and this is my brother Bret. And neither of us is interested in marrying anybody."

I heard Billy's laughter from inside and in just a moment he was at the door. "Bart, Bret, good of you to come. I see you've met Evelyn and survived. Get in here."

I handed Billy the bottle. "A small 'thank you for the invitation' gift." I walked in the front door, followed by my brother, who shook hands with Billy.

"You sly dog. We missed you at poker last night. I take it you, um, enjoyed yourself elsewhere?"

"I did, thanks. Is your daughter always that defensive?" Bret asked inquisitively.

"Considerin' I've tried to marry her off several times, yes. But she won't believe me when I tell her I've quit tryin'."

Evy had stepped away from the door as we entered but she was still at her father's side. "Can you blame me, when he admits as much? Although I must say, his choice in suitors does seem to be improving." She'd given me the once-over and then turned her attention to my brother. "You're Brother Bret?"

"That's it exactly, ma'am," he offered.

"So you know everyone but our housekeeper, Tenora. What can I get the two of you to drink? Whiskey? Bourbon?"

"Coffee?" I asked.

"For both of you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Too early to drink?"

"We don't drink," Bret answered her.

"Some wine, on occasion. That's all," I added.

"I thought all gamblers drank," the girl stated, a confused look on her face.

"Not us," Bret answered, avoiding the 'we're not gamblers' explanation that I trotted out whenever someone mistook us as such.

"Two coffees, Tenora," Evy called out, and shortly a small, slim Mexican woman brought in two cups with steaming coffee. "Tenora, this is Bart, and that's Bret Maverick. Tenora Rosales, our housekeeper and cook of many years."

Bret and I both tipped our hats to Tenora. Just then the door opened, and in walked somebody I hadn't met. It had to be Hank Manchester. He looked to be about my age, maybe a little younger, and a couple inches shorter. He was blonde and blue-eyed and smiled almost as much as Brother Bret. Evy looked pleased when she saw him and went to greet him. She kissed him on the cheek, and he removed his hat and hugged her. I'd gotten the impression that there was no love lost between them, but if that was true they looked awful affectionate.

Evy brought him over and made introductions all around, but before we could get into any kind of a conversation Billy called everybody in to dinner. The food was delicious, the conversations interesting, and it gave me a better chance to watch Evy and Hank interact with each other. Even though they weren't sitting next to each other, it was obvious there was still something between the two of them. Which got me to thinking. If there was some kind of a connection there, what had pulled them apart? Was it something that could be repaired? And why was I so interested in their relationship?

Because the conclusion that I'd come to and discussed earlier with my brother might be a bit odd, but maybe not so much when you gave it some thought. Something had been pulling me back to Las Cruces, and I really and truly believed that something was Evy. Not the girl herself, but rather her happiness. In my imaginary world, I'd loved her. I was gonna marry her. We were happy together. Underneath her defensiveness, she wanted a home and a family. That seemed to be evident in the dream I'd had about her and her child. And I'd taken that away from her by returning to the so-called 'land of the living.' I'd just about come to the conclusion that it was my job – my obligation, my destiny somehow – to give that back to her.

Call me crazy, and more than one will, but I thoroughly believed I needed to play matchmaker. And Hank Manchester was the most likely subject.


	29. Questions and Lies

Chapter 5 – Questions and Lies

After supper the poker group adjourned to Billy's game room, which he did, indeed, have. Along with a billiards table. I was rather surprised to find that Brother Bret was familiar with the game and was actually fairly decent at it. It gave me a chance to sit and talk to Hank; to see just what I could find out about him and Evy.

There didn't seem to be much to tell, on the surface. Hank had escorted Evy around town for a while after he came to Las Cruces two years ago, but somewhere along the way there'd been a disagreement of one kind or another; no one seemed to know just exactly what happened. And Hank wasn't inclined to explain anything. He spoke fondly of her, though, and honestly sounded like he still cared about her.

Hank finally excused himself to go talk to Lee, and I interrupted Bret's game with Billy. "How about teaching me to play?" I asked.

"Are you interested? Seriously? I had no idea you'd want to learn. You're in the right place, then, but you're askin' the wrong man. Billy here is a far better player than I'll ever be."

I turned to Evy's father. "What about it, Billy? Can you teach me?"

He nodded and smiled. "Sure I can, if you're willin' to come out here and practice. Might cut into your sleepin' some."

"I really think I'd like to learn," I replied.

"Alright. How about tomorrow mornin'? Say around eleven o'clock? I'll tell ya, though, Evy's gotta help with the lessons. She's way better at this than I am."

That would work out perfectly. It gave me a chance to spend some time with the girl, to see if I could get any more information about her and Hank Manchester then I'd gotten out of the gentleman himself. "That's fine with me, Billy, as long as Evy doesn't have any objections. You just have to convince her I'm not here to marry her."

"Let me handle her, Bart," was her father's answer. So I did, and fully intended to stay out of any discussion they might have about it. Soon it was time to ride back to town for the nightly poker game, and it was a happy and well-fed group that left for Las Cruces.

We played poker until two or three in the morning before calling it quits. Hank was a decent enough poker player, but another Maverick took the big winnings this night – me. When the game broke up and adjourned for breakfast, Bret went with them to Sugars, but I begged off and returned to our hotel room. I was tired and knew I was gonna have to be up and out before too awfully long, and I wanted some time to think.

Thinking wasn't on the agenda, however, because as soon as I got undressed and into bed I was asleep. I dreamt, but the dreams were mostly jumbled and made no sense. I even had one about Melody and Pappy. I thought I heard Bret come in but I could have been mistaken, because when I woke up later that morning he wasn't in bed. That was odd, knowing how much my brother likes sleep, and I sat up to see if he'd been afflicted with my frequent companion – insomnia. No Brother Bret, anywhere in the room. Nor any sign that he'd been there at all.

Now I was concerned. This wasn't at all like him, and I needed to find out where he was. I got dressed and was just about to leave when the door opened and my brother sort of stumbled in with a rather large bandage across the back of his head. "What happened?" were the first words out of my mouth.

"Ain't it obvious?" Bret asked.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad enough," he answered. "Somebody musta heard that 'Maverick' was the big winner and I was the only one around."

"You see the doc?"

"Yeah, that's where I been since about five o'clock. Just wouldn't stop bleedin'. You ever run into him in your head?"

"Who, the doc? Nope, no occasion to."

Bret kinda chuckled, then winced. "Name's Shandley. Nice enough fella, especially at five in the mornin'." He noticed that I was dressed and ready to leave. "Little early to go out to the ranch, ain't it?"

"Wasn't goin' there. I was goin' lookin' for you."

"Oh." He sat down on the bed and started to remove his boots.

"They get much from you?"

"Nope. Lost most of it last night to you. Left the rest here; didn't wanna take it all with me. Glad I didn't."

"You still got money?" I asked him then, just wanting to be sure.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You comin' back to bed?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm awake. Think I'll go get some breakfast, then go on out to Billy's. See you for dinner?"

"Sure. I'm not goin' anywhere."

I left then and headed down the stairs and south, to Sugars. I wanted to see the sheriff, but food and primarily coffee were first on my agenda. Jancy was off this morning, but Sugar was there and I invited her to sit with me while I ate. "You hear what happened to my brother?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. Whoever it was got him in the alley next door. Another one of the boys found him when they left, and we sent for Doc Shandley. How's he doin' this mornin'?"

"He's alright," I told her. "Maverick's got hard heads. Sometimes that comes in handy."

"Bart . . . "

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What's really goin' on here?"

"Just tryin' to make money and stay alive, Sugar. Y'all got a real nice town here, and some good folks. Speakin' of which, what's Evy Sunday so all fire touchy about, anyway? Is it just her pa tryin' to find her a husband?"

Sugar signaled one of the other girls over and she brought a coffee pot. Once she was gone, the owner resumed. "No. Evy's momma ran off when Evy was just five years old. For some reason the poor child's always thought it was her fault. Billy's tried to convince her otherwise; so have I. Don't do no good. She don't talk about it much anymore, but that's what's behind it."

"Anybody know the real reason? For her momma runnin' off, I mean?" Nothing but pure curiosity behind that question. In my delirium, I'd dreamt that her mother had been shot in her own home – found with another man. Billy thought he'd killed his wife, but it had actually been Aiden Carmichael who'd put a bullet in her to protect Billy and Evy.

"No. There was speculation, but I don't think anybody knows the truth. 'Cept maybe Billy. Why all the interest? You thinkin' about Miss Evy?"

"Not that way, Sugar. Just wonderin' about her and Hank. They seem to care about each other, but everybody says that's over."

"It sure seems to be. They were real fond of each other at one time." Sugar paused and took a swallow of coffee. "You, Mr. Maverick, have evaded my question. Quite adeptly, too."

"What question was that?" I thought I'd managed to wiggle out of answering her, but the lady was a smart cookie.

"What's really goin' on here?"

Just then Sheriff Rose walked in, and it appeared I was saved from coming up with a lie of some sort. "Bart Maverick, one of the men I was lookin' for."

"Hamilton, what can I do for you?"

The sheriff turned to the café owner. "Sugar, I need to talk to Maverick on official business."

Sugar stood up. "Alright, Hamilton, I know when to leave. Bart, you just remember, you owe me an answer."

I nodded and smiled, relieved to be out from under that question, at least for the moment. I finished the last of my breakfast and set down my fork. "What do you need, sheriff?"

"Just one question answered, Bart. Who wants to kill your brother?"


	30. Billiards and Blood

Chapter 6 – Billiards and Blood

"Kill . . . my . . . kill my brother? What makes you ask that?" I was startled by the question, and even more startled by the answer.

"That wasn't just a robbery in the alley, Bart. I talked to Doc Shandley. Somebody was tryin' to bash his head in. Doc had to take stitches in his scalp, and that almost never happens with a head wound. Anybody holdin' a grudge?"

I sat there thinking, and couldn't come up with anybody. Nobody stayed mad at Bret for more than five minutes. It was almost impossible, with the sly grin and the dimples. Of course, there was always the chance he'd beaten someone at poker that didn't like it. I just couldn't imagine anyone that would be mad enough to kill him. And yet, I believed the sheriff. He had no reason to lie to me. "Nobody that I can think of, Hamilton. Does Bret know?"

"I don't think so, Bart. Doc just told him it wouldn't quit bleedin' and threw some stitches in it. Bret was mighty lucky, I'll tell ya that. Couple inches either way . . . "

"I'll keep my eyes and ears open. If I see anybody I recognize I'll let ya know. And I'll watch his back."

Hamilton Rose nodded and got up from the table. "You do that. He's too nice a fella to have somethin' happen to him. You, too." He turned on his heel and left the café.

I wondered for a minute if Sugar would return to the table but she wasn't in sight. I paid my bill and left, headed for the livery and Noble. I had just enough time to get him saddled and be on my way to the Sunday Ranch. If I'd been paying attention I might have noticed that Noble was skittish, like he gets when there's somebody around that he doesn't know, or doesn't like. But I wasn't; I was in a hurry, so I missed the signs that my gelding was unhappy about something – or someone.

It was a pleasant enough day, and we enjoyed the trip out there. I was surprised to see Miguel's horse tied up out front – I hadn't expected them to have company or an audience, but I shrugged it off. Tenora answered the door and ushered me in, and I went straight to the gaming room. Billy and Evy were about half done with a game of billiards, and Miguel was watching them closely. Or should I say, he was watching Evy closely. Uneducated as I was to the ways and rules of the game, even I could see that Evy was far better at billiards than her father. And Billy was quite good.

It was Evy's shot, or turn, or whatever it was called, but when she saw me she stopped what she was doing and grinned. "Well, Mr. Maverick, come to get your first spanking, have you?"

"No, Miss Sunday, I've come to have you teach me the game. Spanking is not something to be done in public, under any circumstances."

She laughed at that one, a full, deep, hearty laugh, and looked slightly chastised. "Touché, Bart," Billy called, and then I laughed with the girl. I glanced at Miguel; even he looked amused.

"You are quick-witted, I give that to you," Miguel remarked. "But you must be more than quick-witted to beat Evy Sunday."

"Beat her? I just want her to teach me to play the game," I answered back. "I need lessons, not competitions." I turned to Billy and his daughter. "You two finish what you were doin'. I know I'm early."

Evy went back to playing, but Billy asked me, "How's Bret this mornin'?"

"Hurtin," I answered him.

"Something wrong with your brother?" that question came, surprisingly, from Miguel.

"Weren't you at breakfast?"

Campos shook his head. "No, I had to return to the hacienda once again. I left after you'd already started for the hotel. Did something happen to him?"

"You could say that, I suppose. Somebody tried to kill him."

"Kill him! Who? Why?" For somebody that didn't have any interest in my brother, Evy seemed a little disturbed. Maybe I was reading too much into it.

"Don't know. But I'm gonna find out."

Billy missed his next shot and walked over to where I was leaning against the wall. "You talked to Hamilton?"

"Yeah, I did. That's how I found out it was more than just a robbery."

Billy rested his hand on my shoulder. "Sorry, son, Aiden found him out in the alley as he was leavin'. Lee ran for Sam Shandley, then we got Bret across the street to his office. You sure he's alright now?"

"I'm sure. Saw him before I left for breakfast. He thinks somebody heard 'Maverick' won last night and he was the only one they could find to rob. Sounds a little suspect to me. You know anything more?"

A shake of the head. "Nope, I wish I did. Bret left five minutes or so before Aiden did, so whoever's responsible was out there waitin' for him. We're not playin' poker tonight; at least he can get a good rest. Aiden's on his way to El Paso on business, and Hank left for Mesilla this mornin'. No sense to it when we're that many short."

I was relieved. It'd give me some extra time to find out exactly what this bewildering sojourn had turned into.

Billy and Evy finished their game; Miguel left, claiming business in Las Cruces proper. I settled in for my billiards lesson. Between father and daughter I learned quite a bit that first afternoon, and we worked at it for almost three hours. At least I had a good idea of the basics when we all agreed to call it a day. I was invited to stay for lunch but declined, wanting to go see how big brother was doing. We made a date for lesson two on the following day at the same time.

Within ten minutes I was astride Noble and on my way back to Las Cruces. Something, as usual, was eating at me, but (also as usual) I didn't know just what it was. Mighta saved a lot of pain and suffering if I'd been able to piece it together right then instead of later.

I took Noble back to the livery and left him with the promise that I'd be back later to brush him down. He gave me a nudge and I scratched an ear, and we parted in good standing.

I hurried on back to the hotel to check on Bret and found him sleeping. Much as I didn't want to, I shook him awake just to make sure he didn't have a concussion, and it's probably a good thing I did. He wasn't easy to arouse, and he had me worried for more than a few minutes. Finally, I got a very abrupt, "Will you stop shakin' me," out of him and, even though he couldn't see it, he got a grin from me.

"You alive?"

"No, Bart, you're talkin' to a dead man." He opened his eyes at last and looked at me, and I was pleased to see he looked perfectly normal.

"Couldn't get ya to wake up; I was just concerned, is all."

The tone of his voice was softer, not quite so perturbed. "I know. Sorry. You back already? How'd the lesson go?"

"Not bad for an ignorant poker player. There's a lot to learn, ain't there?"

"Yep, just like poker. But the things that make ya a good poker player should serve ya well in billiards, too."

He closed his eyes again and I needed to make sure he really was alright. "You didn't tell me the doc took stitches this mornin'."

"Told you it wouldn't stop bleedin'. Thought you knew what that meant."

"Say, what do you know about Miguel Campos?"

"Not much. He left last night right after you did. Said somethin' about goin' home."

"Did you hear him leave?" I waited a minute but got no answer. "Bret, did you hear him leave?"

"Huh? Hear him leave? No, we went inside. I didn't hear him leave."

I know, I was probably making something out of nothing. "Alright, big brother, go back to sleep. I'll be back later." I patted him on the shoulder as I walked back to the door. I had some work to do.


	31. The Three Amigos

Chapter 7 – The Three Amigos

My promise to Noble was gonna have to wait. I needed to get some information, and I figured the best place to start in this instance was John Law, otherwise known as Hamilton Rose.

The sheriff seemed surprised to see me so soon after this morning, and there was a look of worry on his face when he asked, "Everything okay? How's Bret?"

"Hard headed, thank God," I told him. "He's asleep. I came over to ask some questions, Hamilton."

"About?"

"A bunch of things, or people, actually. Tell me what you know about Hank Manchester."

"Hank? What for? You don't think he had anything to do with the robbery, do you?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't, but I need to get a few things straight in my head, and Hank's one of 'em. Where'd he come from, anyway?"

"Well now. Hank came in from Fayetteville, Arkansas. Way he tells it, his family owned a cotton farm but didn't keep slaves, they hired freemen to tend the crops. But it all went to hell when the Yankees burned it down. Said he worked for the railroad for a while, then made his money. But he never said just how he did that. Came here and settled in like he'd been here all his life. That's about the sum of it."

"Tell me about him and Evy."

"There's a story there, only I don't know for sure what it is. Hank and Billy's girl started seein' each other, courtin', as it were, for almost a year. Looked like they were pretty serious, too. Then one day it just stopped. No rhyme nor reason, they just didn't do nothin' together anymore. Almost . . . "

"Almost what, sheriff?" I asked.

"Almost like somebody told 'em to quit seein' each other. Wasn't no big fight or quarrel, leastways none that nobody knows of – it was just finished."

"Just like that?"

"Well, now wait – it was after Hank made a trip to somewhere's up north – I don't remember exactly where he went. But it was right after he came back, they were . . . done."

Hamilton had gotten up from his desk and was walking around the room while he was talking. He stopped now and looked down at me; I'd taken a seat next to his desk. "Is that all?"

"No, sir, it's not. What do you know about Aiden?"

I could see Hamilton shift uncomfortably, like I'd asked a question about the preacher or something. "Aiden Carmichael is one of the finest men I've ever known." That was all Hamilton said for more than a minute, but I was patient. I had time. Finally he started talking again. "Aiden was here in Las Cruces a long time before I got here. He made a lot of money in Louisiana before the war; came here when his lungs couldn't tolerate the Louisiana swamp land no more. If Billy Sunday's got a best friend, it's Aiden Carmichael. Real quality gentleman."

"And he found Bret this mornin'?"

"Yep, left just a few minutes after yer brother did. Heard him yell outside, and that took a real effort, the way his lungs behave. He was tryin' to stop the bleedin' when we got out there. Helped us take Bret over to Doc's place. Ain't nothin' he wouldn't do for his friends; nothin'. If you think Aiden had anything to do with it . . . "

I could hear the anger in his voice, and that's not what I was after. "No, Hamilton, I don't. I'm sure Aiden's as innocent as my brother. One more question for you, and then I'll go. Tell me about Miguel Campos."

Something close to bewilderment passed across the sheriff's face, and he cleared his throat before starting. "Miguel's a hard man to get to know. One minute he's the nicest fella you ever want to meet – then the next minute he's cold as ice. Miguel's got a grown son, a little older than Evy, named Mateo. Still lives at the hacienda. Learnin' to run the ranch, accordin' to Miguel. If he ain't learned by now . . . anyway, Mateo's been in trouble a couple times. Once here in town, once down in El Paso. Got drunk up here and tried to shoot up the saloon. Heard it was more serious down south. Miguel bought his way out of trouble down there, but I understand it cost a small fortune. Only place bigger than the El Rancho Campos is Billy's spread. Why, between 'em they own more than half the valley."

"Law-abiding citizen?"

"Here in town? Sure is. Never no trouble outta Miguel. That's more than one question, Maverick."

I stood up and offered my hand. The sheriff took it. "You're right, Hamilton, and that's all I need. For now, at least. Thanks for the information."

"Bart, you'll let me know if you figure anything out? I don't like an innocent man gettin' attacked right here in town."

"I'll let you know, sheriff. Soon as I get it worked out myself." I left Hamilton's office and headed down towards the livery. I'd made that promise to Noble, and I intended to keep it. Stopped off at the General Store and picked up a couple of apples. When it came to my temperamental gelding, bribery never hurt.

I spent almost an hour brushing him down, and the dang horse seemed more jumpy than usual the whole time I was there. "What's the matter, old man?" I finally asked him and was surprised when I didn't get an answer. At least this time I could tell there was somethin' goin' on that he didn't like, I just couldn't figure out what it was. I paid the livery man to take care of Blackthorn; I was more tired than I'd realized or I would have done it myself. I still wanted to talk to the doctor, so I finally left our mounts behind and headed down to his office.

Looked like the doc was havin' a busy day, so I asked how late he'd be there. "What do you need, son?" was his answer, and I explained who I was and that I just needed to talk to him. "Can you come back around eight o'clock?" he asked me, and I told him sure, I'd be back later.

With as much done as I could do right now, I went back to the hotel to check on Bret and see if he was ready for supper. Not only was he ready, he was, in his words, "Ravenous. I thought you'd never come back."

"Good. Let's just go downstairs. I've got an eight o'clock appointment."

I knew his head was still botherin' him when all he said was, "Sure," and never asked who I needed to see that late. "No poker tonight?"

"Naw, Aiden and Hank are gone on business. Billy was worried about your head and the lack of participants. Decided to take the night off. I thought it sounded like a wise decision."

We found ourselves in the hotel dining room sharing a quiet supper. We were almost done when out of nowhere Bret asked me, "Who you got an appointment with? Surely not Evy Sunday?" There was genuine concern in his eyes.

"Nope. Nobody that will get me into trouble, I promise you."

"Is that your way of sayin' it's none of my business?" That question came with a small smile.

"No, it's just none of your business right now. I'll tell ya later. You goin' back to bed?" I could be just as evasive as my brother when I found it necessary to be.

"Probably. My head's killin' me. See if the docs got any aspirin, would ya?"

So he was at least one step ahead of me. That's usually the way it was, anyway. "Yes, Pappy. I'll ask for you."

"You wearin' the shoulder holster?" was the next thing he asked me.

"I will be before I go see the doc." I stood up and left money on the table; I'd lost track of whose turn it was to pay, but I didn't have the back of my head bashed in last night, so I figured it was only fair. We walked back upstairs slowly, and Bret was awfully quiet. I opened the door to the room and followed him in, and just as I closed the door behind me, he turned around.

"Don't go."

"What? Why?"

"Look, Bart, I still don't understand why you wanted to come here in the first place, but somethin's goin' on that don't feel right. I got a bad feelin' about all this. Don't go back to see the doctor tonight."

I was listening to him as I slipped on the shoulder holster, but not paying attention. "Bret, everything is gonna be fine. I'll be back shortly. Quit worryin'."

I hoped I sounded convincing to my brother. I wasn't sure I sounded convincing to myself.


	32. For a Horse?

Chapter 8 – For a Horse?

I walked back down to Doc Shandley's, smoking a cigar and thinking. Something had been rattling around in my head ever since I saw the way that Evy and Hank looked at each other, and every piece of new information I gathered just seemed like reinforcement. Still, at this point whatever I'd put together was just so much speculation, and I was sure that's all I'd be able to get from the doctor.

I was a little early, so I stayed outside until I finished smoking. It was then that I saw Miguel Campos' Arabian stallion tied up outside Sugars, and I almost walked across the street to talk to him. I wanted to know more about his son Mateo, and who better to ask? But I'd promised the doctor that I'd be back around eight o'clock, and since I was here now best not keep the man waiting.

Doc Shandley, or more accurately Samuel P. Shandley, M.D., as it said on the window of his office, was a small, compact man. Hair somewhere between silver and stark white, eyes grey-blue with glasses and a little mustache, he looked to be about sixty years old. He smiled a lot and was certainly a friendly man, especially after I reminded him that I was Bret Maverick's brother.

"Oh, yes, poor man. How's he doing this evening? I can come to your hotel and look at him if you think it's necessary."

"No, no, Doc, Bret's been bashed in the head before. Although never quite that hard, I have to admit. You sure it wasn't just some sort of fluke, his bleedin' so much?"

"Come in and sit down Bart, did you say? Yes, I'm sure it wasn't a fluke, as you put it. Somebody tried to do him great bodily harm and, given a few more blows like the two or three he received, they would have managed it quite nicely. He was very lucky that Aiden found him before any more damage could be done."

"Anyway to tell what was used to hit him with, Doc?" I was looking for something, anything, to shed some light on the situation.

"From the wounds inflicted, I'd guess the heel of a shotgun."

"A shotgun? Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. Too much injury to have been the grip of a revolver. Whoever hit him wasn't trying just to knock him out. They were trying to do some real damage." We were sitting in his office, and he was watching me digest the information he'd just given me. We hadn't been in Las Cruces long enough to make any enemies, after all, and this was Bret we were talking about, not me. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't think of a reason for anyone to hurt my brother.

"This isn't relevant, but how many stitches did you take?" It must have been relevant or I wouldn't have asked the question.

"Twelve or fourteen."

Good lord, twelve or fourteen stitches? To a head wound? Somebody had indeed been trying to bash his brains in. But why? That was the question I kept coming back to. Why?

"Anything else I can tell you, Bart?"

I shook my head; for the moment I was all out of questions. "No, Doc, I can't think of anything else. But Bret's complained of an awful headache. Can ya give me a couple aspirin for him? And what do I owe you for patchin' up my brother?"

"All taken care of, son. Nothin' for you to worry about. Here, take these with you." He handed me three or four little white pills and I wrapped them in my handkerchief and put them in my pocket.

"Thanks, Doc."

When I left his office I wandered back down the street, just about to return to the hotel when I noticed something odd. Miguel Campos' horse was now down by the livery, so I walked on down there. As I got closer I could hear Noble, and he was causing quite a racket. Once inside I saw the reason why. An unknown man was standing outside Blackthorn's stall, talking to him in Spanish. Noble was raising too much hell for me to hear what was being said.

"I'd back away from there if you know what's good for you, friend. The one making all the noise tends to bite strangers." The man turned to face me, and it was a much younger version of Miguel. This must be his son Mateo. "Mateo Campos?" I asked.

"Si, Señor." He backed away from the stall and Noble quieted down some. "He is yours, the black stallion?"

"No," I told him. "He belongs to my brother Bret. I'm Bart Maverick, I've played poker with your father. The noisy one is mine."

Mateo got a curious look on his face. "Your brother? I wonder what that would be like?"

"What?" I asked. "Having a brother?"

"Si. When one is an only child, one does not understand the concept of brothers and sisters. Is he older or younger?"

I'd never thought what being an only child must be like – having a brother was as natural as breathing to me. "He's older. But not by much. Like I said, the horse is his."

"Is he here?"

"In the livery? No. In Las Cruces? Yes. Why?"

"Would he be interested in selling the stallion?"

"Blackthorn? I don't think so. But you're welcome to ask him yourself. I was just on my way back to our hotel. Come with me."

"Gracias, Señor Maverick. I will."

I spent a minute or two with Noble, just to make sure he was calmed down, and then we headed to the Las Cruces City Hotel. Mateo was taller than his father, close to my height, and was easy company. We talked mostly about horses. He was really enamored of Blackthorn. I couldn't imagine Bret being willing to sell the stallion, but I would never presume to answer a question like that for my brother.

"It is too bad about your horse, Señor."

"Too bad, Mateo? Whadda ya mean?"

"That he has been gelded. Such spirit would have been an admirable trait to pass on."

"Such spirit would have taken a piece out of someone's hide a long time ago. I seem to be the only one immune to his displeasure. Well, me and certain beautiful women."

He laughed at that, a free-spirited, happy sound. Hard to think of this young man being riled-up enough to shoot up a saloon.

I knocked on the door to our room just to give Bret a warning that I wasn't alone. "Yeah," was what I got back, so at least I knew he was awake and probably still dressed. Mateo followed me in, closing the door behind him and leaning on it.

"Bret, this is – "

"Gotta be a Campos," Bret finished for me.

"Si, Señor Maverick. I am Mateo Campos, son of Miguel. I am honored to meet a man skilled enough to play poker with and defeat my Padre."

"How do you know I beat him?" Bret asked as they shook hands.

"Believe me, I know when someone has beaten my father at cards. But that is not what I came to speak to you about. I came with your brother to discuss your magnificent stallion. I believe his name is Blackthorn?"

Bret gave me a _'what now'_ look. "My horse? What about him?"

"I have been admiring him. I would very much like to buy him from you."

"Sell Blackthorn? I can't imagine doing that, Mateo. Why do you wanna buy him?"

"There is no doubt Arabian blood in him, Señor Maverick. But there is something else, too, that I recognize. There is Andalusian blood in him, and that makes him unique. A stallion of this quality could sire many beautiful horses."

Bret shook his head. "I understand your interest, Mateo, but Blackthorn is not for sale."

"But you have not yet heard my offer, Señor."

"He's not for sale."

"Not even for five thousand dollars?"

Bret didn't hesitate. As much as he loved money, that stallion meant something to him. Something that was evidently more important. He shook his head. "Not even for five thousand dollars."

The boy looked disappointed and smiled sadly. "You are remaining in Las Cruces for a while?"

"We are," I answered him.

"Then perhaps we shall meet and discuss this matter again."

Bret said nothing, so I answered for him. "I think his mind's made up, Mateo, but we would be glad to see you again."

We shook hands, and he tipped his hat to Bret. "Señor Maverick, again, it was an honor."

I closed the door behind him and stared at Bret. "Five thousand dollars? For a horse? And you said no?"

"What if it had been Noble?"

That stopped me dead in my tracks. "I . . . uh . . . I . . ."

Brother Bret smiled at me. "That's what I thought."

Suddenly I remembered the aspirin that Doc Shandley had given me. "Here," I told him as I pulled the kerchief out of my pocket and gave it to him. "I got these from the doc and forgot about 'em. Sorry."

He got up and crossed the room, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser, and swallowing one of the pills with it. He sat down on one of the settee's and patted the spot next to him. "Come tell me what the doctor had to say, and just where you found Mateo."

So I explained the conversation I'd had with Doc Shandley, omitting the part about someone wanting to do some real damage. It didn't matter that I hadn't given him that piece of information; I could just about see the wheels turnin' in his head. It didn't take too much effort to figure out this was a murder attempt rather than a robbery; the theft was an afterthought. I needed to talk to Aiden Carmichael as soon as he got back to town. Maybe he'd seen something that could lead me in the right direction.

"Bart? What about Mateo?"

So I finished the tale of my night with meeting the younger Campos, and it finally occurred to me during the telling – Noble had been disturbed twice before. When I saddled him to ride out to Billy's ranch for the billiards lesson, and when I brushed him down earlier today. Had it been because of the boy both times? Could it just be a coincidence? Or was there something else going on here, something I hadn't seen yet? Horses were one of the primary interests of the Campos Ranch – why then was the son riding the father's Arabian? Or was it the other way around, and Miguel was riding Mateo's horse? That made even less sense, unless . . . I had more questions now. And I still didn't have enough information to come up with any solid answers.

"Bret . . . " I started, and I saw the look in my brother's eyes. The look that said, _'please, no more_ _tonight.'_ And for once I paid attention to him. "I'm goin' to bed. You comin'?"


	33. The Dimple Explosion

Chapter 9 – The Dimple Explosion

I was the beneficiary of Bret's head being bashed in. Don't misunderstand me – he had to lay on his side and sleep, which meant no snoring. I don't know how his night's rest was, but mine was quiet and peaceful, and I slept straight through.

Bored to tears at having to spend the entire day in the hotel room yesterday, Bret convinced me he'd behave if I'd rent a buggy and let him go with me out to the Sunday Ranch. I knew exactly how he felt, and I couldn't blame him for wanting to flee the confines of the room, so I agreed. I walked down to the livery and brought our transportation back to the hotel, and as soon as he saw me, Bret made his way carefully outside. He'd taken another aspirin at breakfast, but when I asked him about his head he adeptly dodged my questions. That, of course, made me all the more determined to have Doc Shandley take another look at him when we came back.

We had plenty of time and I took it nice and slow, driving out to Billy and Evy's. This morning the Campos Arabian had been replaced by Aiden's mare, but I was glad to see someone else at the ranch. Especially since it was the man I wanted to talk to. Of course, I'd have to be careful since Brother Bret was with me.

Evy opened the door and smiled when she saw Bret. "I didn't expect to see you so soon after getting hit on the head," she told him, and planted a kiss on his cheek. Hmmm, this was going decidedly different than my imaginary world had gone. _'Of course, you idiot,'_ I reminded myself, _'I didn't have dimples with me when I was here before.'_

It took a few seconds before she acknowledged me. "Hey, Bart, decided you could stand another round with me and daddy? Come on in, they're back in the game room already."

"Does Aiden play billiards?"

"Sometimes, but I think they're talking business right now. Coffee for both of you?"

I nodded and Bret said, "Yes, please." He'd been a little wobbly getting out of the buggy, and I had a firm grip on his left arm. I steered him towards the game room while Evy went to get coffee. Billy and Aiden were standing in the far corner, quietly discussing something, and rather than disturb them I got Bret to a chair where he'd have a good view of me making a fool of myself. I noticed him wince as he sat down and I was beginning to wish I'd ignored his pleas and left him at the hotel. Just then Billy looked our way, and he and Aiden stopped their discussion and walked towards us.

"Bret, didn't expect to see you up and around so soon. How's the head?"

"It's been better, Billy, but thanks to your friend there it's not any worse." Bret started to stand up but I pushed his shoulder back down into the chair and went to Aiden myself, with my hand outstretched.

"Thanks, for both of us," I told him, and his handshake was firm and vigorous.

Aiden chuckled just a bit. "Couldn't let him lay there and bleed, could I?"

I turned slightly so that my back was to my brother. I didn't want him to hear me ask, "Can we get together sometime today? Without the injured man around? I've got some questions I'd like to ask you."

"Sure. I've got an office in town right down from Doc's place. Come on in about 3 o'clock, if that works for you." Aiden kept his voice as quiet as I had.

"I'll be there. And thanks."

Carmichael sat next to Bret, and when Evy returned with the coffee, she carried a tray with two cups on it. "Aiden, take mine if you want it. I think these two are gonna keep me a little busy this morning."

He nodded and took the cup Evy handed him before she served Bret. Then she stood up straight and rubbed her hands together gleefully. "Alright, Mr. Maverick, let's see what you remember from yesterday."

Surprisingly, quite a bit. Billy let me break, and we were off and running. Every once in a while I'd glance my brother's way, and he seemed to be impressed with what I'd picked up in just one lesson. Of course I made more than my fair share of mistakes, but Evy was in a playful mood and even when I failed miserably she made it enjoyable. Maybe it was the presence of Bret, maybe not.

After an hour or so Aiden left, and Evy sat down next to the injured man. He looked better than he had when we first got there, but I didn't know if it was from resting or the presence of a beautiful woman. At this point I didn't care which.

We didn't spend quite as much time today as we had yesterday; I wanted to get Bret back to see Doc Shandley. Billy suggested we skip tomorrow and see what I could do when the instructions and rules sank in. I thought that sounded like a good idea. These folks really were going out of their way for two men that they barely knew, and I was determined to do whatever I could to accommodate them.

"Brother Bret, you ready to go?" I asked him, knowing what kind of an answer I was going to get.

"No."

That's what I expected. "I think we've imposed on the Sunday's quite enough for one day, don't you?"

Before he could answer me Evy chimed in, "Oh, but you can't leave yet. Tenora has lunch ready for all of us, and she would be so disappointed if you left."

Bret grinned, and the dimples exploded. Evy seemed wildly charmed. "We can't disappoint Tenora, now, can we?" He offered his arm to Evy and she took it. Billy and I followed behind, and I deliberately hung back so that I could ask Billy some questions.

"Billy, I saw Evy and Hank at dinner the other night. They looked like they were still interested in each other. Did I misread them? Cause she sure does seem to be havin' a fine time with my brother."

He stopped walking and held me further behind the two of them. "I don't know what's goin' on anymore, Bart. I think she's just attracted to new, good-looking men out of boredom. Watch out, she'll pick on you next."

I let his remark pass unnoticed. "Has she ever said anything to you about her relationship with Hank? Do you know what happened?"

"Why all the interest, Bart? Something I should know about?"

Oops. Sounded like I'd pushed this one a little too hard, so I quickly tried to back-peddle. "Just concerned, Billy. Between what I saw at dinner and Bret's gettin' his head smashed in, I'm just a little protective right now. Didn't mean to overstep."

He gave a little laugh then, and I breathed a tad easier. "Not easy bein' the daddy, is it?"

"Nope. Especially when you're not usually the one playin' that part. Different subject. We met Mateo Campos last night. He's become enamored of Bret's stallion and wants to buy him for an ungodly sum of money. He was ridin' the Arabian that Miguel's usually on. I think I'm missin' somethin'. Don't they have their own horses?"

Billy got a big laugh out of that one. "I can see where you could be confused. Miguel rides the sire, Mateo, the son. Their markings are almost identical. You're not the first one to make the same mistake. Surprised about Mateo and Bret's stallion, though. The Campos family usually doesn't buy anything without thinkin' about it for months."

"Everything alright with the hacienda? That you know of, I mean."

"Far as I know," Billy answered. "Miguel's always been kinda closed mouthed. After Hank and Evy quit seein' each other he kept hintin' that Mateo and my daughter'd make a good match, least ways until the incident in the saloon. Talked about combinin' the ranches and coverin' half the territory with the spread. Wouldn't have been a bad idea, but Evy was never interested."

Billy and I headed for the kitchen, where Evy was giving all her attention to my brother. That was alright by me, but it wasn't what I'd come here for. But maybe I was getting closer to what seemed to be standing in the way of a resolution for Evy and Hank – and believe me, it wasn't Bret.

Tenora's meals were always tasty, and lunch was no exception. I kept an eye on Evy and it didn't appear that her interest in Bret was anything other than a fleeting attraction. I still believed that the man she was really enamored of was Hank Manchester, and I was gonna keep gathering information until I knew exactly what had pulled them apart as a couple. Little did I know then how everything was tied together.


	34. Watch Your Back

Chapter 10 – Watch Your Back

When I finally got Bret loaded back into the buggy, he looked like he was about ready to collapse. "Head hurt?" I asked, already knowing the answer just from the look on his face.

"Like Noble danced an Irish jig on top of it."

"Then you won't give me any trouble when I take you straight to the doctor, will you?"

"No. I'll go willingly." Now that's an answer I never expected to hear from my brother. We made the trip back into town considerably faster than we did on the way out, and Bret rode most of the time with his head in his hands. When we got to the doctor's office I hurried around to help get him out, and that was no easy task. Unsteady is about the best way to describe his stance and gait, and I just barely got him into the office and down in a chair without falling.

"Doc!" I yelled, unwilling to leave Bret sitting there alone.

In just a minute Doc Shandley came running out, took one look at him and told me, "Let's get him in back. He needs to lie down."

We got him on his feet and into the back exam room, where a bed stood up against one wall. "In bed," I was told, and that's where we went. The doctor rolled up his sleeves and grabbed his bag, and in just a minute was in full exam mode. "What happened?"

"We were out at Billy Sunday's ranch, and he just got worse and worse lookin' on the way back. I told him I was bringin' him here and he didn't even argue."

"Grab that towel for me, will ya?" and Doc pointed to a clean towel on the exam table. He applied it to the back of Bret's head and when he pulled it back away in just a minute or two it was wet with blood. "Stitches came loose. Help me get him rolled towards the wall – I'm gonna have to get this stopped and stitch him up again. I told him to stay in bed for at least three or four days. And you had him out at Billy's ranch?"

"I didn't know, Doc. He never told me, and when I was here last night you didn't say nothin' about keepin' him down. I'd a never let him go out there if I'd known." I think the doctor must have heard the desperation in my voice, because his attitude softened noticeably.

"Let's just be glad he's passed out – fixin' this isn't gonna be pretty. You stay here in case I need you?"

"Yes, sir, right here."

The bleeding must have been less than it first appeared or the stitches hadn't broken free. Either way, it only took a few minutes to get everything back under control, and I was considerably relieved. Shandley stood up from the bed and rolled his shirtsleeves back down. "You leave him here with me, at least until this evening. He needs to rest and let that scab back over before he does any moving around. Come back here after six and we'll decide where he spends the night, alright? And I apologize for the tongue lashing I gave you. I'm sure this wasn't your idea; he seemed to be the restless sort."

"We both are," I told him. "No need to apologize. You keep him down, I'll be back before six to make sure he hasn't run off on you."

The doctor chuckled then. I had the feeling he'd dealt with men bigger than my brother and had no trouble holding on to them. I wasn't happy that Bret needed additional medical attention, or that he hadn't told me what the doctor advised him about resting. But I was pleased that Doc Shandley had him more or less settled down, and that I could do the rest of my nosing around without explaining to big brother where I was going.

By this time it was close enough to three o'clock that I could go see Aiden Carmichael. His office was only two doors down from Doc's and the scrawl on the window read 'Aiden Carmichael – Land Developer.'

I walked into a nicely furnished office and a bright and efficient looking young lady out front. I tipped my hat and announced myself. "Bart Maverick, ma'am. I have an appointment with Mr. Carmichael."

"Yes, sir, he's expecting you. Someone dropped in right before you got here but I expect them to be through shortly. Please have a seat."

I tucked my coattails and did just that, picking a chair that gave me an excellent view of the young lady. She was quite attractive and appeared very well versed in her job, whatever it was. Watching her made for a pleasant few minutes and reminded me of the lovely woman back in Little Bend. I hadn't had much chance to think of Doralice Donovan since we'd been here, but right now she was the dominant thought in my mind, and I wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms.

The door to Aiden's office opened, interrupting my reverie about Doralice, and someone I hadn't expected to see emerged from the room. Miguel Campos. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. "Miguel."

"Senor Maverick. How is your brother today?"

Not wanting to give anything away, I simply said, "Doing fine." Campos left, and Aiden beckoned me into his office.

"Sorry, Bart, Miguel just showed up unannounced. How is Bret, since you brought him back from Billy's?"

I shook my head. "To tell you the truth, Aiden, not well. He's over at Doc's right now. By the time I got him back to town there was some bleedin', and I think Doc re-stitched part of his wound. He didn't bother to tell me he was supposed to rest and take it easy for a few days before he went gallivantin' around."

"Doc Shandley won't let him get away with anything else, now. I assume you wanted to ask about my finding him in the alley."

I sat down in front of his desk. The office was relatively small but pleasant. A solid wood desk, bookshelves, two chairs and a small table that served as a private bar, with whiskey, water, and glasses.

"I did, Aiden. Billy said you left about five minutes or so after Bret did. What did you see and hear when you got outside?"

"Heard nothing unusual, at first, but I noticed that Bret's horse was still tied up front. That made no sense; he said he was going back to the hotel. I looked up and down the street but didn't see him. Then I heard something – some kind of a noise. Maybe a moan, not sure, but I followed the sound. That's when I saw somebody on the ground in the alley. I got over there and found your brother. There was a lot of blood, but I couldn't see anything but the head wound, so I yelled for help. Billy and Lee came runnin' and we got him across the street to Doc's office. I just stayed until I knew he was alright."

Not much new there, it was just about like I thought. "Did you see anybody else around?"

"That time of the morning? Nope, not a soul. But I did find this under your brother." He pulled something out of his pocket and laid it on the desk in front of me. It was a coin, a Mexican Dollar.

"Probably most everybody around here has some of these, wouldn't ya think?"

"I would expect so." We sat there for a minute in silence, both of us trying to figure out just what the coin meant. If anything. "Could have been there all along," Aiden added.

"Or his attacker coulda dropped it." Finally I looked up at him. "Anything you can tell me about Miguel's visit today? That's not confidential, I mean."

"No. But I was surprised to see him, and more surprised by the subject he wanted to discuss. I told him I wasn't interested."

I took a chance with my next question. "Did it have anything to do with the largest rancho in the territory?"

Aiden looked startled. Whether he answered me or not, I had guessed correctly. I stood, wanting to get back to my brother's side quickly. I was worried about another attempt on his life and I didn't want to waste any more time. "No answer required, Mr. Carmichael." I extended my hand, and we shook. "Thanks for your help. And thanks for helpin' Bret." I tipped my hat and turned to go.

As I reached for the door I heard Aiden say, "Watch your back, Bart."


	35. Good Men

Chapter 11 – Good Men

I'm sure Doc Shandley was startled to see me back in his office so quickly. "It can't be six o'clock already, can it?" he asked me as I hurried in.

"No, sir, but I got some information I didn't like and wanted to get back here right away. Anybody been in to see my brother?"

There was an odd look on Doc's face as he answered me. "Yeah, matter of fact there was. Hank Manchester came by, said he saw you getting Bret in here and wanted to know if everything was alright."

"You didn't let him in, did you?"

"No, I saw no reason to. Your brother's asleep and he didn't need to be woken up."

There was nothing but pure relief in the breath I exhaled. Not that I thought Hank was there to do Bret any harm. I just wanted to be sure he was safe, at least for now. "Thanks, Doc. I'm goin' back to sit with him for a while if that's alright."

"Of course it is, son. Just try not to wake him. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Doc went one way, I went the other. Bret was turned to face the wall, the same position I'd left him in, but he was softly snoring and I'd never been quite so happy to hear that sound. I pulled up a chair as quietly as I could and sat down for double duty – to guard my brother and to think.

Hank's visit was probably exactly what it looked like – concern for someone he knew casually. It was Miguel's call on Aiden that had me most troubled. It sounded like the head of the Campos family was thinking about combining his ranch with the Sunday spread – again. Far as I could tell, there was only one way that was gonna happen; if Mateo Campos married Evy Sunday. I hadn't seen them together and had no idea how well they might know each other. Hell, for all I knew they might not be able to stand the sight of each other.

Then there was the coin Aiden found underneath Bret in the alley. Had it been accidentally dropped by his attacker, or carefully planted by someone trying to implicate one or the other of the Campos men? Or had it been there all along and just now happened to be found?

Mateo had seemed genuine enough in his admiration for Bret and his poker playing expertise. He almost sounded in awe of my brother for having defeated his own father. I couldn't imagine him trying to beat Bret's skull in with the heel of a shotgun, but I did allow for the remote possibility. That left Miguel, more than likely. Given the caring, compassionate man he'd seemed in my delirium, that almost didn't appear possible. _'This isn't the world in your head, Bart,'_ I reminded myself _. 'This is the here and now. And this is a different Miguel Campos.'_

' _That different?'_ I wondered. _'From mayor to murderer?'_

I sat there for an hour or two, running through everything that happened since we'd arrived in Las Cruces, and just couldn't come up with any kind of an answer that made sense. Then I started laughing, realizing that none of this made sense. Who dreams an entire life, right down to a girl you're gonna marry? For that matter, who dreams any of the things I had? It was warm in here, and my brain was goin' nowhere fast. Without realizing it, I fell asleep and stayed that way until I sensed there was someone in the room with us, and I jerked awake, grabbing for my gun as I did so.

"Slow down, cowboy, I'm not here to shoot you." It was Evy Sunday's voice, and I holstered the Colt. "I didn't mean to scare you like that."

"Sorry. Old habit. Once bitten, twice shy. What are you doin' here?" I stood up and gave her my seat, choosing to lean against the exam table.

Evy sat down and looked up at me. "He didn't look real good when you left earlier, and I wanted to see if he was alright. I went to your hotel, but there was no one there. This was my next stop. Looks like I guessed correctly. What happened?"

"Stitches pulled loose, and he was bleedin' again. The doctor told him to rest longer than he did, but . . "

"He's stubborn, just like his brother." She offered the words with such a pretty smile that I couldn't argue. I'd forgotten how sweet and loving Evy could be, knowing that what I'd seen and heard in my dreams wasn't real. Or was it?

"Evy . . . "

"Yes, Bart?"

"Are you really interested in my brother, or you just tryin' to make a point with Hank?" Her face never changed expression, but there was something in her eyes . . .

She sat and stared at her hands for a few moments, which were folded in her lap. When she answered me her words were soft and quiet. "You're very astute, aren't you? I like Bret. He's sweet, and charming, and awfully good-looking. And funny."

"But he's not Hank Manchester?"

"No, he's not."

I shifted positions and crossed my arms in front of me. "What happened, Evy?"

"I . . . I don't know. We were . . . I thought we were fine. He left town on business, and when he came back nothing was the same anymore."

"Do you still love him?" I waited a long time for my answer, and when it came I could barely hear it.

"Yes."

"Have you told him?"

Evy stood up and walked to the other side of the room. "He knows it." Then she turned back to face me. "It makes no difference. Whatever I did to upset or offend him – it must be so bad that he can't forgive me."

"I don't think you said or did anything to Hank Manchester."

She shook her head, and that chocolate hair swirled around her face, now visibly distraught. "Then why won't he tell me what's wrong?"

"Sometimes we have to do things to protect the ones we love."

It took her just a minute to figure out what I was telling her. "Then he might still . . . "

I nodded. "I think he does, Evy. I think he did it to protect you. You or your father."

"But who . . . why . . . ?"

"That I'm not sure of, yet. I'm still tryin' to put it all together, with some proof."

"Does your brother's attack have anything to do with Hank and me?" She pointed at the body of my brother, lying so still on the bed. Her words were pleading for the truth. So were those coal black eyes.

"I suspect so. When you turned your attention to Bret, he became a target."

"You mean I caused – " She was disturbed and rushed across the room into my arms, where she proceeded to give me a very wet shoulder. I held her and let her cry; this was as close as I'd come to her since we'd been here. When her tears finally stopped I gave her my handkerchief. "I'm sorry. It's just that I – well, Bret's so nice, and to think I'm responsible for this . . . "

"You didn't cause it, Evy. The person that tried to hurt him caused it, and I promise you that I'm gonna find out exactly who that is. But I need you to do somethin' for me."

"Anything."

"Keep this conversation just between us. Don't tell Hank, or Billy, or anybody. Bret's life and yours could depend on it."

She looked up at me and smiled, and for just a moment I remembered why I'd fallen in love with her. "Alright. I'll keep it our secret until you tell me otherwise." Then she turned to look at Bret's back. The snoring had stopped a long time ago, and I was sure he was awake and listening. I just didn't know how much he'd heard.

"Take care of him, alright? He's a good man." She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. "And you are, too. I'd rather nothing else happened to either one of you."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll do my very best."

She left almost as quietly as she'd arrived, and the man in the bed stirred after a minute or two. "She's right, you know," I heard him say. "My brother is a good man."

"Just you keep that in mind the next time you wanna throw somethin' at me," I told his back.

"Can you get me rolled over?"

"That I can do, Pappy." I held his head while he turned his body to face me. It took us a bit, but we got him rolled. "How much of that did ya hear?"

"Enough. You've been busy." He coughed then, and I figured he needed some water, so I got a glass and helped him drink. When he was done I sat back down in the chair. "What time?"

Why we were always so interested in what time it was when we woke up I still don't know, but I pulled out my watch to answer his question. "Almost eight-thirty. You hungry?"

"I could eat. What about you?"

"Yeah, I could stand somethin'. I'm goin' to get the Doc and see what he says about where you're spendin' the night."

Just then the door opened and Doc Shandley stood in the doorway. "Thought you two might be getting hungry. I'll be here for a while if you want to go get some food, Bart." He looked down at Bret. "I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd stay here tonight. I had to re-stitch your head some and I'd like to keep an eye on you a while longer."

I expected my brother to give the doctor a hard time, but surprisingly he didn't. "The way my head feels, Doc, I'm not goin' anywhere."

That was my cue to leave. "I'll be back just as soon as I can," I told the two of them, then hastily added, "Don't let anybody in, Doc. No matter who it is."

The last thing I heard as I went out the door was my brother's voice. "Bart, be careful."


	36. Blackmail a la Mode

Chapter 12 – Blackmail a la Mode

I don't know if there was a poker game or not that night. Doc gave me a couple of blankets and a pillow, and I slept on the floor next to my brother's bed. I'm not sure if there is a worse or better between sleeping on chairs and sleeping on the floor, but at least I knew Bret was protected, and that was the most important thing right now. The notion had crossed my mind that Evy's visit yesterday might prompt another attempt on his life, and I wasn't goin' anywhere that could jeopardize his safety.

The fact that there was no more bleeding was encouraging, but Doc wanted to keep Bret where he couldn't reopen the stitches, and all three of us agreed the best place for big brother to spend the day was right where he was. Normally Bret wouldn't have been happy about it, but I think he was in so much pain from the day before that he was willing to lie still. I went to Sugar's and brought back coffee and eggs for all three of us; the least I could do was buy Doc breakfast for keeping an eye on the reluctant patient.

Once everything was taken care of, I told Bret I had more people to see and I would be back later that morning. "Stay outta trouble, would ya?" he asked me, and I couldn't help but grin.

"What fun is that?" He got a look on his face that I knew all too well and I did some back-peddling. "I'll do my best," I promised, and headed off towards the sheriff's office.

Hamilton didn't appear in the least surprised to see me. "I figured you were with your brother last night," he explained as we sat at his desk and drank more coffee. "Hotel room or Doc's?"

"At the doctor's office," I explained. "Some of the stitches broke loose and Doc had to sew him back up. That's where he is now, under heavily armed guard so he doesn't escape again."

Hamilton started laughing. "You two are a pair, aren't ya? Did you get all your questions answered? Or have you come with more for me?"

"Actually, I came to show you somethin'. This is what Aiden found underneath Bret in the alley the other mornin'."

He picked up the coin I'd laid on his desk and looked at it. "Nothin' unusual about this. It's just a standard Mexican dollar. Probably a hundred or more folks in this town got one just like it in their pockets."

"That's what I figured," I told him. "Remember what you said about Hank goin' up north on business, and his relationship with Evy changin' when he got back?"

"Sure."

"Anybody else gone outta town at the same time? In the poker group, I mean."

Sheriff Rose sat there for several minutes, sipping coffee and rubbing his chin. "Not that I remember, but that doesn't mean anything. We might not have played poker with Hank gone, and if we didn't . . "

"I know. Anybody coulda been missin'. One more question."

Hamilton laughed again. "You are full of 'em, aren't ya? But I do understand. You'll do anything when it's kin that gets hurt."

"True. Heard anything about the Campos rancho bein' in financial trouble?"

"No. Not now, at least. Couple of years ago there was some kinda problem with relatives across the border, but that settled down a while back. Why? Do you know somethin' I should know?"

I shook my head. "Not really. What I know is conjecture and guesswork at this point, nothin' to lay a bet on. Did y'all play poker last night? And was everybody there?"

"Yeah, we did, but we missed the two of you. It ain't quite the same without the Maverick boys. The regular group was all there, but Miguel left early again. Mateo came and got him, as a matter of fact."

I got up to leave. "Thanks for the coffee, Hamilton. I'll let ya know if I find out anything else."

"Give your brother my best. We wanna see the two of you back in the game."

"I might be there tonight. It depends on what happens today and how Brother Bret fares."

Hamilton nodded and I left the office. I really wanted to talk to Hank Manchester, but I needed one more piece of information before going to see him, so I went to send a wire to a friend of mine in Arkansas. It could take a while to get an answer, and I headed down to the livery to spend time with the horses after leaving word with the telegram office. This time there was no one there but me and the livery man, and I burned off some of my frustrations by currying first Blackthorn, and then Noble.

Noble, as always, was a good listener. Anyone hearing me talk to my horse would probably label me crazy – not that I haven't been called that before. But when you've got as many details as I did and you need to verbalize them, he's proven to be a willing ear time and again. With none of those unwanted opinions to get in the way.

By the time I was finished it was late morning and I was in great need of a bath. I returned to the hotel and arranged for one, then went to our room to get clean clothes. The room had been trashed – clothes pulled from the dresser, mattress drug onto the floor, and I had no idea what anyone was looking for. This must have happened last night, and I was glad that we were at Doc's office instead of here. I found clean clothes and went back to the front desk, willingly paying to have someone come upstairs and try to put everything back together, except the clothes. I'd do that myself.

I took my time gettin' the dirt off, and it felt good to relax for a few minutes and not worry about anything. Of course, that started again as soon as I got back to the room and had all that puttin' away to do. At least everything was straightened when I left, but I couldn't find anything gone and had no idea who had been looking for what.

I was on my way back to Doc Shandley's when I finally ran into the one man I hadn't yet been able to talk to – Hank Manchester. We exchanged pleasantries and I invited him to lunch at Sugars. I was pleased he accepted, and we headed for a table in the back.

Jancy wasn't working but Laurie was, and quickly we had coffee and placed our order. "Doc said you came by yesterday afternoon to check on Bret. Sorry I wasn't there, but I was down with Aiden Carmichael at the time. I'm afraid I interrupted a meetin' between him and Miguel." Hank didn't say anything, but there was a shift in the way he sat, and he looked displeased. "He's talkin' about tryin' to combine the Sunday Ranch with his property again. Wants to have the biggest ranch in the territory. That seems to be his big ambition. There's only one way he can do that, isn't there Hank? Is that why he tried to blackmail you into ending it with Evy Sunday? So she'd be free to marry Mateo? What did he use against you, Hank? That you came from a family of Yankees rather than good ole Southern boys? That wouldn't play real well down here in Southern New Mexico, would it? Or did he threaten Billy and Evy directly?"

Hank sat there and watched me carefully, probably trying to figure out what I wanted from all this. Was I just another blackmailer lookin' for a quick score? Or was there something more sinister at play here? I wanted to put his mind at ease as quickly as possible.

"I don't want nothin' from you, Hank. It's obvious you and Evy still have feelin's for each other, and I don't think anybody's got the right to keep you apart. That's why Miguel tried to kill Bret, isn't it? He saw just another obstacle gettin' in the way of his grand plan, and figured to eliminate him before it got too far along. The only thing I want is for the man that hurt my brother to pay for what he tried to do."

Our food came then, plus a refill on coffee and neither of us said anything until Laurie had left everything and gone back to the kitchen. Hank was calm and soft-spoken when he asked me, "How do you know all this? Who told you?"

"If you ask the right questions you get the answers you need. I make my livin' by readin' people, and knowin' how to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. That's all." I ate some of the food in front of me, but honestly I just pushed most of it around my plate. We sat in silence for a few minutes while Hank decided whether to trust me or not. Finally the votes were in, and the matter was resolved in my favor.

"Are you really serious, you want to help Evy and me?" I nodded, waiting for him to continue. "I've loved her since I first met her. I still love her. I think she loves me, but I'm not sure."

"She does."

"How do you know that?"

"I asked her." He got a big smile on his face, then, and I did, too.

"You are direct, aren't you? If you've got questions, ask 'em. I'll answer as best I can."

I had lots of them, but I didn't want to go into any more of them while we sat in the cafe. "Let's go back to the hotel. I'd feel better there. More protected."

"Good enough," Hank answered. We finished what we could of the food and then headed back to the Maverick hotel room. I was glad that I'd gone in and had the place straightened up a while ago; at least we weren't walking back into a disaster.

We got inside and I locked the door, then Hank and I settled in for the discourse. It was gonna be a long afternoon.


	37. Entrapment

Chapter 13 – Entrapment

It didn't take much to get Hank to tell the story. I had the feeling he'd been carryin' it around inside him for a long, long time. "My family didn't believe in slavery. When the War came anybody that was old enough put on the Yankee blue uniform and fought for the North. And we weren't burned out by the North, but by the Johnny Rebs. Left me and my ma and my little sister alive, and took everything we had. When I was older I went to work for the Union Pacific Railroad and eventually fell into enough money to come west.

"You're right, bein' a Northern boy wouldn't sit too well down here, at least at first. Things are better now, but before I could tell Evy and Billy the truth I got called up to Colorado for business. Miguel showed up unexpected and told me I was gettin' in the way of a deal he was workin' on – to get Mateo and Evy married. He asked me to step aside. I declined.

"That's when the threats started. Said he'd have Billy eliminated if I didn't get out of his way. Just to show me he meant business, Billy was shot when somebody 'robbed' the stage he was on comin' back from El Paso. I believed Miguel, so when I got back to town I stayed away from Evy. Then trouble found Mateo, and Miguel set his plans aside for a bit. But in the last couple months he's started up again, tryin' to get the two of 'em together. I wasn't sure how Evy felt till you told me. I hoped she still cared, but I couldn't take a chance. There was too much at stake. Why'd you get involved in this whole mess, anyway?"

I kinda chuckled and answered Hank as honestly as I could afford to. "It's a long story, and it sounds crazy. Just take my word for it, all I want is Campos in jail. That happens, and Bret and me'll be on our way back to Texas. There's somebody there I need to see." That was putting it mildly. "Does Mateo know anything about this?"

Hank shook his head. "I don't think so. He hasn't shown any interest in Evy at all, as far as I know. Mateo's got himself a little girl down in El Paso that he goes to see whenever his Pa's gone. Her name's Carmela. Her and raisin' horses is all he's interested in."

Time I showed some of my cards. "Yeah, he seems like a good kid. Look, I've got an idea, but it might take a day or two to work out. Keep this under your hat, would ya? Not a word to anybody, not Evy or Billy or Aiden. I'll see what I can do to get it taken care of and get Campos in jail, where he belongs. And don't be surprised by anything I say or do, alright? I'm doin' everything I can to end this all without any more bloodshed. Especially Maverick blood. Can you do that?"

"I sure as hell can. Let me know what you need me to do to help." Manchester was serious and stuck out his hand to prove it. We shook and left the room; I locked the door behind me. I needed to get back to my brother and see what I could do about puttin' my plan in motion.

XXXXXXXX

When I finally reached the doc's office, he had Bret sitting up in the back room. "Well, you look a whole lot better than when I left earlier," was the first thing I told him, and it was the truth. Some of the color had come back to his face, and he seemed more alert and alive.

"I'm willing to let him go back to his room," Shandley told me, and that was good news. "As long as he stays in one place for another day or two."

"Will you?" I asked, and got the Bret Maverick grin. Which means he may or may not have been entirely trustworthy. "We're not leavin' here without your guarantee you'll follow Doc's orders."

"Look who's playin' Pappy now," was the only thing my brother had to offer.

"I don't know, Doc, maybe you better keep him here a while longer."

"And who's gonna keep you in line if I'm here?" Bret asked.

"I don't seem to be the problem," was the best that I could offer.

"I'm running out of scalp to sew closed," Doc admonished Bret. "You've got to let that heal, because I don't know what I'm gonna do if you break it open again."

Bret looked up at Doc Shandley and appeared to be serious. "I know, Doc. I'll do what you tell me, I swear."

"In that case, I'll discharge you. But I'm coming by your hotel room tomorrow morning, and those stitches better still be in place." Doc adjusted his glasses and shifted his gaze to me. "It's up to you to make sure he behaves. If that head wound starts to hemorrhage . . . "

"It won't, Doc. Come on, Brother Bret, let's see what we can do about gettin' you outta here." Between Doc and me we got him on his feet, and I helped steady him. He was a little wobbly from being in bed for so long, and he was willing to lean on me. It was a good feeling, to be the one providing the support for once instead of the one being supported.

It was slow going up the hotel stairs, but we took our time and I eventually got him back to the room. There was no fooling Brother Bret; he took one look around and told me, "Somebody's been in here."

I don't know how he did it – everything looked the same to me. But I saw no sense in lying. "Yep, somebody was here last night and tore the place apart. I still don't know what they were lookin' for, cause I couldn't find anything missin'." I guided him over to the sitting room and helped him get comfortable on the settee. As soon as he was situated I received my first order.

"Sit down and tell me what I've missed the last day or so."

Of course there was no arguing with him, not if I wanted to keep my word to Doc. So I sat opposite him and related almost every conversation I'd had with Aiden, Hamilton, Evy, and Hank. The only thing I left out was my assurance to Hank that I had an idea to implement. I'm sure Bret could figure that out without my aggravating his psyche.

When I'd finally spilled the whole tale he got that typical Bret Maverick look on his face – the one that said, _'I know you've left something out – you might as well tell me now.'_ And normally I would have. But I knew that the doctor was serious when he'd worried about the head wound hemorrhaging, and I wasn't about to take any unnecessary chances. "Honest, that's all there is. I haven't figured out how to trap Miguel into an unforced error."

"They playin' tonight?"

"Yep. And don't even think about it. You're not goin' anywhere near the game, no matter what I have to do." This was one time I expected him to argue with me, and he didn't.

"What're you gonna do about Campos? You still ain't got any actual proof it was him tried to bash my head in."

I sat there and shook my head. "Don't know yet. But I'll think of somethin'. You got any ideas?"

"Yeah, I do. What about seein' if you could get . . . "

I sat and listened to his suggestion, and it could work. All I needed was Doc Shandley's assistance, along with a little play-acting by Sheriff Rose, and we might be able to bring an end to all this – hopefully, without any further bloodshed.

"Alright, that sounds better than anything I could think of. I'm goin' to talk to Doc and Hamilton. You stay right where you are until I get back and don't let anybody know you're here. And if anybody tries to come in, shoot first and ask questions later." I picked up Bret's gun belt and handed it to him, after checking to make sure his gun was loaded. "I'll be back as quick as I can."

"Bart . . . "

"Yes, Brother Bret, I will." I put my hat back on and left. I had two stops to make before I could get ready to play one of the most devious poker games of my life. And I needed the help and cooperation of both the men I was goin' to see.


	38. The Crazy Man

Chapter 14 – The Crazy Man

After I explained what I could to Doc Shandley, he was more than willing to help in the apprehension of the man that had us all fooled into believing he was honorable. From his office I headed down to see Hamilton Rose, who was just as upset to realize there was a viper in the midst of his group of friends.

"I just don't understand why," Hamilton kept saying. "What does he stand to gain by folding his land into Billy's holdings?"

"I don't know, sheriff, but there must be an upside to it for Campos. I just haven't found out what it is yet."

"Everything's set for tonight?" Rose asked me again.

"Assuming he's there to play poker, it is. Doc knows what to do. You sure you do, too?"

"Don't worry about me. But what are you gonna do if this doesn't work?"

I shrugged. I couldn't think of anything else. "I don't know, Hamilton. I guess we just have to wait and see what happens."

I had dinner sent up to the room for Bret. He ate and I, as usual, drank coffee. This whole plan had me on edge, maybe because it wasn't my plan, and I'd be glad when it was over. As long as it ended with Miguel Campos in a jail cell for attempted murder.

I felt like a walking arsenal when I left for next door. I had my Colt strapped down and my shoulder holster with the derringer, and Bret had given me his derringer, which I secreted in the inside pocket of my coat. My brother wanted to go with me, of course, even though he knew the scheme would never work if he did. After extracting a promise that he'd sit tight in the hotel room until I came to let him know it was over, I finally left and went downstairs, ostensibly to play poker.

Billy was there already, along with Aiden and Lee, but Hank and Miguel hadn't yet arrived. Hamilton came in next, and I tried to concentrate on small talk, letting everyone know that Bret's head was really killin' him and he was still in Doc Shandley's exam room. Hank got there about ten minutes later and we decided to start playing, with me fervently hoping that Miguel made it sooner rather than later. It was hard enough to concentrate on the game as it was, and I was worried that Bret would leave the hotel room even though he wasn't supposed to. Or worse, that his head really would start bothering him again.

We were on the third hand when Campos finally came through the doors. I won't say I was happy, but I was certainly relieved. The sooner we got this all resolved, the sooner Evy and Hank could be reunited. And the sooner I could hold Doralice Donovan in my arms and feel her body next to mine.

We played for another hour without interruption, and I was beginning to think that Doc had fallen asleep, or forgotten his part in the charade we were trying to pull off. Just as I'd about given up hope for any kind of a resolution tonight Doc came running in, looking appropriately frantic, glancing nervously in my direction, as if hiding some big secret. Which is just what he was supposed to be doing. He went straight to the sheriff and whispered something to him, and within seconds Hamilton scrambled up and ran out of the room with no explanation, following Doc out of the building and down the street towards the medical office. Everyone seemed stunned at first, then it was decided to throw in the hand and start a new game.

Rose was gone for about twenty minutes before he reappeared, and he was alone. He had a grim look on his face, and if I didn't know what was goin' on I would have been worried.

"Maverick," the sheriff started, waiting for my response.

"Hmmmm?" I asked, looking up from the cards I held.

"You better come with me. It's your brother."

"He's at Doc's, Hamilton. Is somethin' wrong?" I let the nervousness be heard in my voice, and I really did sound worried. He looked me right in the eyes and I dropped the cards in my hand and jumped up, running out of the building as fast as my legs would carry me. Rose was right behind me, although a bit slower. Once I got inside Doc's office I went straight to the back room, where Bret had been earlier in the day, and waited for the sheriff to get there.

In just a few seconds Hamilton joined Doc and me, with a big grin on his face. "You oughta be an actor, Bart," was his first comment. "You played that perfectly."

"Let's just hope they buy it," I reminded him. "Whatta ya think, about ten or fifteen minutes?"

"At least that long," Doc answered, and the three of us sat down to wait the requisite number of minutes. When the time was up I untied my tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt, pulled off my hat and shook my head to make a mess of my hair; Doc did the job of throwing half a glass of water in my face. I pulled my Colt from the holster and emptied the bullets into my pocket, then turned to my two companions.

"Wild enough?" I asked.

Doc nodded, and the sheriff slapped me on the shoulder. "Looks good to me," he remarked. "Remember, the crazier you sound, the better it'll play."

"Don't you worry," I answered him. "I know how to play crazy. Wish me luck, boys."

They did, and Hamilton walked in front of me with his hands raised. I kept my now-empty gun pointed at his back, with the hammer cocked and the best wild-eyed look I could manage on my face. I heard an audible gasp from the table as we made our way to where they were sitting and they caught sight of the gun, and I was glad to see nobody else in the saloon right now. I started mumbling about Bret, just stream-of-consciousness irrational remarks, brandishing my pistol back and forth. "Sit down, sheriff," I growled out, and he did so, taking what had been my seat at the table.

I stood in front of the poker table for a minute or more, almost calmly surveying the men in front of me. I was quiet and cold when I started, letting both the volume and the pitch of my voice build. "My brother's dead." One of the regular players made some kind of sound, and after a moment I continued. "Somebody at this table beat him to death, and he told me who it was. Dyin' declaration, ain't that what you called it?" I demanded of Hamilton, and he nodded.

"Bart – " Billy started, and I momentarily waved the gun at him.

"Shut up, Billy. Stay outta this. Bret didn't do anything to any of you. He was good and kind, and he just wanted to play poker and live his life. And that's why you killed him? Beat him in the head until he bled to death. For what? For the land? For a girl? Because he got in your way?" I was waving the gun again at this point, my erratic scrutiny bouncing from one of them to the other, and I saw sorrow, and pity, and total bewilderment in their eyes. And for just a moment there was a flicker of recognition on Hank's face, and then it was gone as quickly as it appeared, and resignation took its place. At least Hamilton wasn't the only one that had some idea of what I was trying to do.

No one in that room had ever seen me anything but reasonable; smiling, friendly, totally at odds with the irrational man standing in front of them now, the man whose brother had just 'died.' I backed away from the table and stared right at Miguel. It was time to focus all my crazy on the actual guilty party. "Why, Campos, why? You hardly knew him. He never did anything to you, not one single thing. Why did you have to kill him? Bash his head in like some wild animal, not even give him a fighting chance? What if someone did that to the person you loved most in the world? What if it happened to Mateo? How would you feel then? If they took away the only thing you cared about in the whole world? Left you with nothin', nothin' to worry about, nothin' to live for? No reason to stay rational and sane, no reason to exist anymore! No reason to keep breathin'! Say somethin', damn it!" The Mexican vaquero sat there, not making a sound, but you could see apprehension in his eyes; recognition that he had mortally wounded something inside me when he 'killed' my brother.

I was shouting now, pointing the gun at him, and everyone at the table sat transfixed, waiting for something to happen; dreading that something would happen. I wasn't play acting anymore, I'd turned loose all the agony and grief I'd felt in Dodge City, when I thought Bret was really dead. I let out a low moan, like an animal in pain, and howled my next words. "Stand up! Stand up, you murderous bastard! Stand up and look at me while I kill you!"

Miguel pulled himself to his feet, and I knew I had him. His voice, when the words came, was quiet and steady, pleading and almost ashamed. "I did it . . . I did it for my son. So he would have dignity, and respect, and a rancho so big that no one could ever take it away from him. Together, the land would be almost half the territory. No matter what happened to Mexico, the land would belong to him and his children. Your brother . . . was just another obstacle in my way. Another stone for me to step on, to secure Mateo's birthright forever. Just another mountain for me to climb to get what I wanted for my descendants. It was so close, so close . . . I thought it was only a matter of time, once I frightened the foolish Yankee into backing away. And then . . . and then the stupid gambler got interested in the girl. Just when the path was clear. Just when I had it all worked out." He raised his eyes to stare into mine, and there was no hope, no regret, no fear. Only emptiness. "Go ahead. Shoot me. It is only right that you should."

I glanced down at Hamilton, who had slowly drawn his gun and had it trained on the man that had intended to kill Bret. I let out a long breath and tried to gather all the anger and hatred I'd turned loose back inside, where I kept it locked away from the rest of the world. Where it had come from I'm still not sure, but it had always been there, ever since the day long ago that momma died. Most of the time it was easy enough to ignore – I kept it so tightly under wraps that it never threatened to bubble up to the surface. But somewhere inside me I'd turned it loose today, and it frightened even me. Fortunately it had done its job; the emotions were so raw and genuine that nobody doubted they were real. I let the hammer down slowly on my Colt and holstered the gun.

"I have no intention of shooting you, Miguel. And my brother is very much alive. But I think a jury of your peers may still want to hang you."


	39. Mission Accomplished

Chapter 15 – Mission Accomplished

The sheriff handcuffed Miguel Campos and led him to jail; I collapsed into the nearest chair and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Everyone sat in shocked silence; both at my devastation and Miguel's confession. Hank finally got up from his chair and came over, offering a glass of whiskey as he took the seat next to me. "Quite a bit of theatre you put on there. Glad you gave me some warning beforehand."

I took the drink, and even though I'll never like the taste of it, I drank the shot without hesitation. Something dark and sinister had crawled out of my soul and I was having a difficult time getting it back inside where it belonged. I'd faced it down before; it was an anger that fueled every fiber of my being. I don't know where it came from, or why it was there, but this wasn't the first time it had surfaced. It almost pushed me into a saloon robbery when I was fifteen; it drove me across Skull Valley and away from the mining camp of Chloride and my brother; it rode with me in a drunken stupor across Mexico after Caroline died.

It had surfaced, briefly, in other places, at other times, but somehow never quite like this. I conjured up all the pain and hostility I felt and unleashed it to catch a potential killer; a man with no heart and no soul at all. And it worked – Miguel Campos had confessed to the attempted murder of my brother. Everyone thought I'd done a brilliant job of acting – what they didn't know was there was no acting involved. Someone offered me another drink, and I accepted it with visibly shaking hands.

Billy was there, then, with a comforting touch, talking to me. I have no idea what he was saying. My conscious mind had ceased to function properly, and I saw his lips move and heard the words, but they made no sense to me at all. I felt someone grab hold of my shoulder, and I looked up at Doc and saw his smile, and in that moment I dropped the whiskey glass to the floor and attempted to follow it down.

I have no idea how long I was out. When I opened my eyes all I could see was Bret's face and hear his voice calling me. "Bartley, son, come on back now. The worst is over, Doc says you're just in shock. Come on now, you got everybody worried. Not good to scare your friends like that. Not good to scare me like that."

I looked around and realized I was in a familiar place, and it wasn't our hotel room. Doc's office. I tried to sit up and a hand pushed me back down – Bret's hand. "Doc says lie still for a minute. Drank that whiskey too quick for a man on edge like you were. Quite a performance, I understand." His voice was soothing, like it always was, and I closed my eyes again.

"No performance," I told him, and I felt his hand squeeze my arm.

"I know, son," came his words, and I was glad he was there. Somewhere in the background I could hear Doc's voice. I was exhausted; whatever I'd done in the saloon had taken all the fire out of me and all I wanted to do was forget. At least now I didn't have to worry about whether or not Bret was safe from another attempt on his life. I let it all go and went to sleep this time.

When I woke again I was alone, or at least I thought I was, and it was morning. I looked around and slowly sat up, and that's when I saw him – Bret lying on Doc's exam table, with a blanket over him and a pillow under his head. He should have been asleep in a soft bed; instead he lay on a cold, hard exam table, just to be there if I needed him. I had one hell of a brother.

I swung my legs around in the bed but before my feet touched the floor his eyes were open, and he was watchin' me. "Bout time you woke up, sleepy-head. I thought I was gonna hafta eat my pillow."

"You should be in bed," I told him. "Not here with me."

"Well, I was a little worried last night. Everybody says you put on one heck of a show, and there sure wasn't much left in the tank when you got done. Hamilton had to come up and get me to come prove to everyone that I really was alive. Campos wasn't the only one that believed you when you swore I was dead."

"Sorry."

Bret threw off the blanket and sat up stiffly. "I know how hard that was for you."

I was trembling again, and I hoped it was from the chill in the air. "I don't know where that comes from, you know," I told him quietly. Bret got down off the exam table and sat next to me on the bed, throwing his arm around me and pulling me as close to him as he could.

"I know, son. I know you don't, but you do a good job of keepin' hold of it."

His grip on me tightened as I answered him. "Sometimes."

"Sounds like it came in handy last night. You got a confession out of Campos."

I shook my head. "I don't think it was a confession as much as it was a battlefield surrender."

He was almost a whisper in my ear. "Doesn't matter what you call it, it was the truth."

XXXXXXXX

We finally went back to the hotel and ate breakfast. Bret ate breakfast; I had coffee and toast. My head seemed to have cleared some but my stomach was still not in the mood to entertain guests. I deliberately wanted to avoid eating at Sugars – the last thing I needed was talking to any of the poker group right now. I felt like a soaking wet towel with all the water wrung out. Bret understood that.

As soon as we got back to the hotel room I made Bret lie down for a while. His head didn't hurt as badly as it had yesterday or the day before, but after sleeping on Doc's exam table he needed to be comfortable for a while. I found myself on the settee, trying to put my emotions back into some semblance of order.

Soft snoring found its way to my ears and I smiled. Bret was asleep in a good bed, where he should have been last night, and he was safe. Miguel Campos was in jail, where he belonged, and the near impossible had been managed, clearing a path for Evy Sunday and Hank Manchester to find their way back to each other. That voice in my head urging me forward to a place I'd never actually been had been silenced; I felt like I'd accomplished what I needed to. There was still something bothering me, though, and it was that unexplained anger that lurked deep down inside me somewhere. I'd thought about it over the years, but I really didn't know where it came from, or why it was there. It was almost like there was another Bart Maverick, a stranger, living inside me, and he escaped to wreak havoc on occasion.

Last night I'd put that anger to good use, but it didn't always happen that way. I'd even turned it on my brother more than once, and nothing Bret had ever done deserved that. Well, maybe once, when he lost my cuff links in Chloride. But other than that he'd had my back my entire life, even when I didn't deserve it. Maybe I should tell him more often how much he meant to me. How lost and lonely my life would be without him. He wasn't the only person in my life; I had friends, but none of them were my brother.

That led me to think about Pappy, and how our relationship had changed over the years. I'd grown up with the misguided belief that Bret was the number one son, so like Pappy that I only existed as a spare. That wasn't true, and I'd finally come to realize it when Pappy told me all about him and Momma, and what had happened after she died. He loved both of his sons as equally as he could. The only reason he talked things over more with Bret was my brother's personality – closer to Momma's, calm and rational most of the time. I was too much like Pappy; it would have been like discussing things with himself.

We'd gotten to a good place – maybe it could be a little better, but at least we knew exactly how we felt about each other. And I was glad for that. We'd come close to losing each other too many times. And who knew just what the future held for each of us?

I don't know just how long I sat and thought about everything that had happened in the last few months, but at some point even I fell asleep again. Might have slept the day away, too, exhausted as I was emotionally, but eventually the sound of someone knocking on the door woke me. I scrambled up to try and stop them from waking Bret, but I glanced at the bed on my way to the door and saw that his eyes were already focused. And they were staring straight at the person standing there when I got the door opened – Evy Sunday.


	40. A Tale Spun in Glass

Chapter 16 – A Tale Spun in Glass

"Did I wake you?" Evy asked as I pulled the door open.

"Yeah, but that's alright. Come on in."

She did before she saw Bret in bed. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I should go."

He sat up slowly and smiled at her. "Don't. I was awake anyway."

We went to the settee and Bret got up out of bed. "I can go downstairs if this needs to be private."

She shook her head. "No, come over. It involves you, too."

Once he'd joined us, she folded her hands in her lap and looked right at me. "Daddy explained everything that happened last night. Then Hank came out to the ranch and told me the rest of it, everything you've done since you got here. I don't think I can ever tell you what it means to me, to finally know the truth and know that Hank still has feelings for me."

I looked at the smile on her face and the light in her eyes. "I don't think you have to. Tell me, that is. It shows."

"But there's one thing I don't understand, and I'd like to know. Why? Why did you two go out of your way to help people you didn't even know?"

I fumbled around for an appropriate answer and Bret spoke up. "Oh, he knew you, alright. I just don't think you'd believe it if he explained it to you."

Evy stared at me, those coal black eyes open wide. "Now you have me even more intrigued. Please explain it to me. I promise I'll listen and not interrupt."

"No matter how far-fetched it gets?"

"I promise."

Bret and I exchanged looks. We were both thinking the same thing, but Evy had asked for it, and I was going to tell her the whole story. "It all started several months ago . . . "

It took me the rest of the afternoon to unravel everything, up to and including the proceedings of last night. I got up twice for a glass of water, and both times I noticed the look on her face. It was somewhere between outright skepticism and pure mirth. But she was good to her word and didn't interrupt me. Bret did several times, to add things I had forgotten or didn't know. When I got through the events of yesterday evening, she was still sitting quietly and listening. I waited for a word, a reaction, and it took a few minutes before she finally spoke.

"I'd say you were a man with a very vivid imagination, or you were absolutely out of your mind, but for two things."

I wasn't surprised at the conclusions she'd reached, but I was curious about her 'two things.' "And what would those be, Miss Sunday?"

"I do, indeed own a blue dress with lots of folds and ruffles, but I've never worn it."

"And the second thing?"

"My mother didn't run off with another man. Aiden Carmichael shot and killed her to protect my father. And no one in this town knows that but Aiden, daddy, and me."

I thought Bret might explode when she told us that. It somehow all made perfect sense now, maybe not to the other two people in the room, but most certainly to me. Now that doesn't mean I can explain it, just that it all seemed reasonable.

"There's no way you could know either of those things unless everything you told me was true." She paused for just a moment and then looked at me again. "It also explains why you scared me when I first met you."

That was not what I expected to hear from Evy Sunday's mouth. "Scared you? Me? How did I do that?"

"You won't laugh at me?"

"After everything I just told you? Why would I laugh at you?"

"When I opened the door to you and Bret – you seemed so familiar to me. Not Bret, just you. Like I knew you somewhere before. But I knew that I'd never met you, and it scared me. Does anybody else know all this?"

Bret chuckled just a little at that. "It's not the kind of thing you go around tellin' everyone you meet."

I nodded in agreement. "Just the three of us."

"Good. Can we keep it that way?" There was something in her voice that told me she believed everything I'd divulged to her, but that others might not.

"I have no problem with that."

"Daddy wants to have another dinner at the ranch, for you and Bret. To thank you both for everything you've done to get this mess straightened out. Will you come? Tomorrow night, about six?"

"We will."

"Not that I can claim any credit for any of the resolutions here. The only thing I contributed was a smashed in skull," Bret laughingly stated.

"No, that's not true. I couldn't have done this without you," I insisted.

"Me and my hard-headed, smashed in skull," he reiterated.

"Your wisdom and support. Even if you do think I'm crazy half the time."

"Just half?" Bret asked, and we all three laughed.

"What about you and Hank?" I asked her finally.

"It's going to take some time, I think, but we'll be fine. I love him, and now that I know he loves me, we'll work it out. Thanks to the Maverick brothers."

"And some luck. I hate to bring this up, but has anyone spoken to Mateo?"

Evy looked at me, and there was a distinct sadness in her eyes. "Sheriff Rose rode out there today. Miguel is his father, of course, but Mateo is very upset with everything that's happened. It's going to take time for him, too, but I think he has a good head on his shoulders. Better than his father's, that's for sure. Well, I think I better get on home. I've taken up enough of your time. Thank you both for everything you've done. Bart, I'll never forget you," and she stood tall and kissed me on the cheek. I walked her to the door and locked it behind her.

"You are a good man, Brother Bart," I heard from the other side of the room.

"You're not so bad yourself, Brother Bret."


	41. The End of the Road

Chapter 17 – The End of the Road

Long after Evy Sunday left, Bret and I had a serious conversation about everything that had happened in Las Cruces. While neither of us had any kind of explanation for the occurrences of the last few months, we came to the conclusion that there are just some things in this world that don't make sense. The best thing I could think of was to say that the last year was complicated, and let it go at that.

Both of us were anxious to get back to Texas. Bret needed time to heal properly, and I needed time with the woman that had put a place marker on my heart. I wasn't sure just how much I'd come to care about her, but I certainly wanted to take the time to find out. Besides, after all the traveling we'd done I had no problem with the thought of spending some time in Little Bend.

To that end, we decided to leave Las Cruces the morning after Billy's 'party.' It was gonna take us a while to get back home because I wasn't gonna let Bret push himself until he was ready to drop. He'd put a good scare into me, and I had no intention of letting him risk his health any further. Once again we'd proven just how necessary we were to each other's survival, and it was a lesson I wouldn't soon forget.

We did go down to Sugars for supper, and I was grateful that the only one there was Jancy. She'd heard the story multiple times and we had a quiet, peaceful meal, which seemed to be the best thing for both of us at this point.

I was somewhat saddened to see my billiards lessons come to an end, but I think I'd gotten a sound education in the basics. Maude had been talking about putting in a table with the expansion, and I thought it was a good idea before; now I was sure of it. I know Maude could play; maybe Doralice could, too. If nothing else, they'd have a laugh over my attempts to learn the game.

The next day passed quickly and before I knew it, the time had come to get cleaned up and ready for Billy's supper. We both packed after that, then I went down and saddled the horses for the trip to the WB Sunday Ranch, one last time. On the ride out there, down Valpariso Road, it felt like something was ending and something new was about to begin. I didn't know exactly what was ahead of us, but I had a renewed faith that whatever it was, Bret and I would face it together.

The whole group was there, minus Miguel Campos, of course, and everyone was in fine spirits. Sugar and Billy made no secret of their fondness for each other, and Aiden seemed genuinely happy for them. I spent quite a while in conversation with Hamilton Rose, who did his very best to convince me that I was in the wrong profession. I finally had to tell him, "Hamilton, if I came home a lawman, my Pappy would shoot me."

Lee and Evy were playing billiards until Hank arrived, and then it was like someone had lit up the sky with fireworks. I think Evy was wrong about the two of them – it didn't look like it was gonna take any time at all for them to get right back to where they were a year ago. Dinner was almost ready to be served when there was another knock at the door, and Billy opened it to reveal Mateo Campos.

The silence was awkward for a minute until Mateo walked in with his hat in his hand and came straight up to Bret. "Mr. Maverick, I didn't come here to disrupt anything. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for the things my father did to you." Then he turned to me. "And the pain that he caused you, too, Mr. Maverick."

He headed back for the door before stopping in front of Evy and Hank. "I can never tell you how much I regret what my father did to keep you two apart. I can only hope that sometime in the future the Campos name will not be spoken with the contempt it deserves."

Then Evy took Mateo's hands in hers before telling him, "We know you had no part in it, Mateo." And she kissed him on the cheek, while Hank shook his hand. Mateo left quietly then, and I think everyone felt that peace had been made.

Supper was delicious, as it always was whenever Tenora cooked. We laughed and told stories, and nothing further was asked about how or why we'd come to Las Cruces, or how I knew all the things I knew. When it was time to go Bret and I said our good-byes and headed for town.

"How do you feel about stayin' in Little Bend for a while, Pappy?" I asked my brother on the way back to our hotel.

"Comfortable. Surprisingly comfortable. Like some peace and quiet is just exactly what I need."

"Good. Cause the furthest I plan on ridin' for a while once we get back is from Uncle Ben's house to Maude's saloon."

"Sounds good to me, Brother Bart. It would be nice to wake up without a headache in the mornin'."

"I have to agree with you, Brother Bret. I have to agree."


	42. Epilogue

Part IV – Little Bend Epilogue – My Woman

The noise from the men doing construction was deafening. Maude had gotten the expansion and remodeling on the saloon started while Bret and I were in Las Cruces, and so far everything seemed to be going along fairly well. We'd been back in Little Bend for a little less than three weeks, and we'd come into town at her request to throw some ideas around about the new layout.

Of course that wasn't my main reason for coming into town. My main reason was sitting in the seat next to me, looking every bit as beautiful as she did the last time I saw her – which just happened to be yesterday. I squeezed her hand, then raised it to my lips and kissed it, and Doralice graced me with a most dazzling smile. I was, at that exact moment, the happiest I'd been in a long time.

"So, if we put a billiards table down at this end of the saloon, then we can set . . . "

That was Maude, probably talking to Bret, because she knew darn good and well that if Doralice was in the room, I wasn't listening. I really was interested in what she was doing with the place, but it was awfully hard to concentrate on a set of drawings when a real, live, flesh and blood woman as beautiful as the one next to me was in the room. Especially since I knew what we'd be doing later in the evening.

"I think that's a pretty good set-up, Maude," I heard Brother Bret tell the original Mrs. Donovan. "The only thing you might do is add . . . " As usual, I lost the rest of the comment to a pair of aquamarine eyes. Finally I did hear an entire remark, and it made me laugh.

"Why don't the two of you just go ahead and go on that picnic or whatever it was that you were gonna do this afternoon? Your brother and I are doin' just fine without you, anyway."

"That's the best suggestion you've made all afternoon, Maude," I told her in reply. "I'm just too hungry to think straight, anyway."

"Go on, get out of here. Bret and I can finish this up later, can't we, Bret?"

"With no distractions, Maude. You comin' back for poker?" My brother's question was directed straight at me.

"Yes. Probably. Possibly. I think so." That was the best answer I could give him. I pulled Doralice to her feet and we went out the back door to Maude's office, laughing like a pair of teenagers. The buggy was parked back there, already loaded down with a picnic basket full of food, a bottle of red wine, and a rather large blanket. Everything a man needed for a wonderful afternoon out with his girl.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. Doralice was indeed, my girl. Maybe I should say my woman, because she was all of that. And I was perfectly happy saying it. I helped her into the buggy and followed her in, picking up the reins and heading for one of our favorite spots, down by the river that I'd frequented since I was a kid. In that same stand of juniper trees where my brother had watched and waited for me to decide if I was gonna stay on the right side of the law, or ride to Claytonville with Earnie Night and Fred Taylor to rob a saloon. Doralice and I had two or three places we went to regularly, shady and secluded from most of the riverbank, but close enough to still feel the cool breezes when they blew across the water.

Today I picked the one with the most privacy and spread the blanket while she waited to unpack our lunch. She'd no sooner sat down with the basket of food when I caught her wrist in my right hand and pulled her close to me. "I thought you were too hungry to think straight?" she laughed while I kissed her hair and loosened the golden curls from the topknot she was wearing it in. Her tresses tumbled and spilled down her backside, and I buried my face in them and laughed along with her.

"I didn't say what I was hungry for, did I?"

Sometime after we lay on the blanket with her head on my shoulder, and I fed both of us pieces of the fried chicken that she'd brought. I kept waiting to wake up and find out it had all been a dream. But it wasn't a dream, it was real, and it had been every moment of every day since I got back to Texas. Later that night while she lay in my arms, her warm breath blowing in and out, softly across my body, all I could do was offer up a prayer that for once, Dear God, this feeling of peace and contentment would last for a long, long time.

The End


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